Redemption for Twenty Four
by DTMJ
Summary: Twenty four delinquent teenagers are all forced to attend a camp dedicated to community work in the forgotten town of Idris. Their task is to completely remodel Idris, and if the job isn't done in twelve weeks, the fate of a jail sentence hangs over their head. Can the troublemakers get over themselves? Will drama be too great? Are they able to manage the impossible task?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! I originally posted this chapter without an author's note, which looked kind of strange on a mobile device. ****Yes, this is my first fanfic ever, and I'm really excited to become a part of this amazing website filled with so many fandoms and _feels_! Of course, none of the characters are mine, as they belong to the lovely Cassandra Clare. I wish they were, though. The things I'd do to Jace… Okay, let's keep this part clean. I'm open to all reviews and criticism, so please don't be shy! If my writing just so happens to absolutely suck, tell me so I can get it fixed. I'm planning on switching POVs. throughout the story, and this may be the last chapter with Clary as the P.O.V. I don't know yet. Too early to determine that. Anyway, enjoy! (:**

Clary looked around her room for the last time. The walls were stripped bare, the dresser cleared out. The window was swung open, letting in a slight breeze. She glanced in her bathroom, not used to it being so cleared out. All of her makeup and shampoos were packed away already along with her clothes and art supplies. The large bed sitting in the middle of the room was stripped down and left white, the once-colorful room now whitened and plain.

It was truly her last few moments in this room. Clary thought this day was coming up way too quickly for her liking, and now it had arrived before her like a train skidding to a halt. It was her fault for her departure. It was her fault this day was even scheduled to happen. Her throat constricted and tears burned behind her eyes; she shoved her sadness down.

"Clary?"

She responded to the familiarity of the voice, turning so fast it almost gave her whiplash. Jocelyn, her mother, stood uncertainly in the doorway, looking as disheveled as Clary felt. "Clary, Luke's truck is fired up," her mother continued, leaning into the room to give it a last one-over, her green eyes scanning wall to wall. "Are you ready to go?"

Sighing, Clary pointed to the two green suitcases leaning against the wall as an answer, the zippers all neat and zipped up. Jocelyn smiled lightly in relief, pushing a few strands of her red hair out of her eyes. "That's good." Tears flooded her mom's vision, causing Clary to roll her eyes.

"Mom, it's only twelve weeks," she said, but even as the words escaped her lips, twelve weeks sounded a lot more like twelve years. Swallowing hard, Clary continued, "There's a thing called a phone."

Jocelyn wiped her tears away. "I know, I know," she muttered, pulling Clary tightly in her arms. Clary grunted in surprise, but didn't push her mom away; the feeling of home burned deep in her gut, and Clary suddenly felt how real this situation was. This was the last hug she will receive from her mother for twelve weeks. She felt the expansion of her mom's chest as Jocelyn sighed. "I just wished you were smart enough to not have caused so much trouble."

Clary buried her face in Jocelyn's shoulder as she tried to suppress the memories of the graffiti she had spray painted across New York, the cold eyes of Judge Imogen piercing holes in her in the courtroom, the dropping sensation of her gut as she received her punishment. Twelve whole weeks away to fix an abandoned town seemed to be so unrealistic then. Now, it felt more real than ever.

At least she won't be alone. Imogen had told her twenty-three other teenagers would be staying with her in the same house to help the cause, closely monitored. They were all in similar situations, all under the threat of jail time. And all of them had been served by Imogen. Clary didn't know much about these teens, but all she knew was that they all had some things in common: they were close in age, this was their first time meeting each other, and this was their only chance to get out of jail. And nothing was going to ruin this for any of them.

Clary untangled herself from the embrace and tried to memorize her mother's features in person. From Jocelyn's beautiful dark red hair to her emerald green eyes, she was effortlessly beautiful, even close up. Her mother smiled sadly down at her, tucking a piece of Clary's red hair behind her ear in a motherly fashion. "Oh Clary, don't look at me like that," Jocelyn said softly, lightly stroking her cheek, "there are four visiting days, you know. One every three weeks."

Clary leaned into her mom's hand as she frowned. "Once every three weeks… I don't like the sound of that."

Jocelyn chuckled dryly. "No one does, dear." A loud honk from Luke's truck made both of them jump, ruining the moment. Clary was already late – she had to leave. Clary and her mother looked at each other, knowing it was time to depart. Tears slid down Clary's cheek as she engulfed her mom into one last hug before leaving. "I love you, Clary," Jocelyn sighed, stroking Clary's red hair. "And please remember why you're in this mess."

Clary did remember, only too well. She wish she hadn't done what she had done, but the past was in the past, and it was time to accept her punishment and get it over with. Things needed to change in her life, and they were going to start now.

Another honk broke out as Clary rushed out of the house, her mom trailing after her. Clary jumped into Luke's beaten-up truck as Jocelyn kissed Luke good-bye through the window, reluctant to let Luke leave. Clary quickly drank in the sight of her house, as she won't see it again in person for twelve weeks.

_Twelve weeks_. That thought pounded through her skull as Luke pulled out of the driveway. Twelve weeks without her mom with her, without her friends from St. Xavier, without the small bedroom she had been so accustomed to. Twelve weeks without the familiar streets Clary had memorized so long ago. Twelve weeks without her favorite coffee or her favorite comic book store Forbidden Planet. _Twelve weeks_.

Luke drove through the streets and instantly got stuck in midday New York traffic. Clary stared out the window, trying to remember New York as much as possible. She knew the manor she was going to live in was located in heavy wooded areas near Canada, and that she wasn't going to be able to leave that area. A pang of homesickness embedded itself deep in the pit of Clary's stomach as Luke drove out of New York and into Vermont.

Deciding watching New York behind her wasn't the best idea, Clary plugged in her headphones and listened to her more relaxing albums, her consciousness drifting off into a hazy dream, the only escape from reality.

"_Clary_."

Clary's vivid reverie of apples and the farmhouse was drifting off slowly; she tried to grasp it back. Someone was shaking her awake, causing her dream to shake off along with it. She was having such a good dream: she and Luke were sitting on top pillow-y green grass, munching on their handpicked apples. But all that was gone before her eyes were even open.

"Clary," the voice repeated, "we're here. At the drop-off."

Groggily, her eyes fluttered open. She was instantly greeted with the sight of thick pine trees, covered with a thin layer of white snow. Another realization struck when she noticed Luke's truck surrounding her; she had thought she woke up outside. Turning her head, Clary saw Luke hovering over her, his blue eyes crinkling when he realized she was awake. She smiled weakly – which instantly dropped when sudden dread filled her stomach. This was it. The twelve weeks start now.

That woke her up. Clary shot up, looking out her window. They were parked in a sludge-covered parking lot with a dozen cars surrounding them. Outside, Clary could make out a small blue tent set up in front of a blue bus. Families surrounded the tent, talking to the assistant inside. Clary's stomach churned, and more than anything she wanted to turn back.

"Well, go on out, Clary," said Luke impatiently, opening his car door. "We have to sign you in."

Clary quickly glanced at Luke. He was avoiding eye contact, purposely turned away from her. She felt a lump form in her throat. "Luke," she started, "I'm sorry –"

"Don't." Though he didn't look at her, Clary could tell he was glaring. He swung himself out of the driver's seat and slammed the door shut behind him, causing the car to shake.

With an exaggerated sigh and a feeling of regret, Clary swung open her truck door, and was instantly greeted with a blast of wind. Her eyes and face stung as she wrapped her scarf tighter around herself. Snow was lightly falling, catching in her red hair. Luke was suddenly beside her, grabbing her arm and leading her towards the blue tent. The bitter air sucked all the air out of Clary's chest.

They dodged several families hugging their kid good-bye. Luke led her in the blue tent, walking up to the foldable grey desk. A woman was sitting behind it, typing furiously on her laptop. She looked up from the screen as they approached, her hand pausing momentarily. She had an 80's hair style and wired-brimmed glasses, perched on the binge of her nose. She cocked a pencil eyebrow as she pushed the laptop away from her, leaning in. "Are you here to sign in?"

Clary almost rolled her eyes; why else would they be here? Luke answered instead. "Yes. Yes, and how might we do that?"

The lady smiled her snaggletooth smile, red lipstick staining her teeth. "Just tell me your name, dearie, and we'll put you in," her eyes narrowed fractionally. "How old are you?"

Luke choked back a sarcastic laugh as Clary said icily, "Sixteen, why?"

The lady frowned, and then went back to her hideous smile. "Oh, nothing. The age limit for this is fifteen, and…" she trailed off as Clary's eyebrows rose, silently telling her to not finish that sentence or else death would be inevitable.

Luke cleared his throat. The lady looked up at him and her smile broadened. Clary's eyes narrowed. Why is she so nice to them? Clary was a criminal; shouldn't she be evil towards her? But then she realized Luke was standing beside her, and Clary noticed the lady giving him puppy eyes. _Oh,_ she thought, _she is nice because of Luke._ Okay, gross. Old people love. "Right," the lady continued, "your name. What is it, hun?"

"Clary," said Clary, wishing she were anywhere but here. "Clary Morgenstern."

The lady frowned, typing in her name. "That's odd," she muttered, "you're registration didn't tell me of a brother –"

Luke coughed to cover the end of her sentence, pushing Clary out of the tent. "That's enough," he said forcefully, interrupting the lady's sentence. Her eyes narrowed.

Clary was in a daze. "_Brother? _What are you talking about?" She struggled out of Luke's grasp, trying to get back at the lady. "I'm an _only_ child!"

Luke dragged her back into the cold, Clary trying to get out of his grasp. But his grip was iron-tight, and he showed no reason to lesson it fractionally. "Luke!" she screeched, sending curious stares their way. "Let me _go_!"

Luke stopped abruptly in front of his truck, sending Clary's arm flying behind her. He whipped out his phone and started to call someone, making Clary's temper fire up. She was told she had a brother, and Luke wanted to make a call without any further explanation?

"Alright!" A loud booming voice broke her thoughts; she turned around curiously to see an older man holding a microphone. Families turned towards his voice, looking at him curiously. "My name is Hodge Starkweather, and I'm the town mayor and the person to be monitoring your child's work," He looked across the crowd, a friendly spark flying behind his eyes.

Clary walked closer to him, temporarily forgetting about her brother. So this is the man who organized their punishment, huh? He doesn't look that impressive, from his potbelly to his short height, down to his neatly-trimmed gray beard. "You may have many questions, and I'm the person to go to before sending your child away." He grinned, showing white teeth. Everyone was quiet, and the only noise to be heard is the howling of the wind.

"Okay, so here's the deal: your child has the fate of a jail sentence stuck in their backside, am I correct? They've been a bit more naughty and irresponsible than normal. Well, this punishment is to help boost up their responsibility by giving them the heavy weight of fixing up a town in less than twelve weeks, which seems to be unmanageable. But trust me, with this stimulating team work and responsibility, they are sure to get the task done, with credit and honor to their name." His blue eyes twinkled. "That's right. In their hard work, the town will dedicate a plaque showcasing all of their names in the town hall. But that will only take place if the job gets done.

"'Where will my child stay?' They will be staying in the Institute, which is the name of an old manor that has been vacated long ago. We have sent a crew to fix the place up, installing new house essentials and new furniture. We already assigned a boy's hallway and a girl's hallway, and your child's name has been assigned a room. Along with this, we have also spent a good amount of money on spyware, ensuring your child will be closely monitored during these twelve weeks. We also have a stationed adult to live with them during this time. There are cooks and maids to be keeping the place running, so while your child is away building and fixing, there will always be a hot meal and a cleaned bed waiting for them.

"Today and tomorrow is a free day for your child to get used to the place and meet each other. On Monday we will begin construction, and they have all Sundays off to rest and relax. Every three weeks, we will have a Family Reunion, which means you will be able to greet your child in the very home they will live in. You can take them wherever you want, but remember, they have a curfew of eight o'clock. Any later time will result in further punishment for your child, meaning their Sundays off will be restricted.

"We understand the situation of a bunch of teenagers living together. Their hormones can get a bit out of hand sometimes, but remember, we have several adults and even more security cameras placed around the house, watching their actions. If they misbehave, a letter will be sent home to you and your child's Sunday off will be restricted. If that doesn't seem like much, just wait until they have to work from five in the morning to ten at night every night without any break. If this punishment does not work, and your child continuously misbehaves, they will be sent to jail immediately to await their next trial, which will not be as friendly as the first.

"Any questions before we take off?"

A tall woman with slick, black hair spoke up. "Will this show up on their permanent record?"

Hodge nodded and spoke up, his voice gruff from his speech. "This will show up as volunteer work for your child, and their case will be dropped without further question."

This seemed to rile up the crowd. Clary went rigid as she felt someone grab her hand and squeezed it for support. She relaxed, recognizing Luke's parental movements. She looked up at him, and this time, he looked down at her and smiled weakly. _Got you,_ she thought happily, turning back to the crowd and at Hodge.

Hodge brought up his hand, dwindling the noise of the crowd.

A blonde man raised his hand. "Will there be professionals there to help our kids rebuild a town?"

Hodge smiled and chuckled dryly. "Why, of course there will be professionals! They'll leave after the fourth week, though. Anyone else?" No one spoke up this time. He smiled again. "Okay, then. Let's get your kids on the bus!"

Clary was pushed within the crowd towards the blue bus, and with much effort she wiggled herself out of the crowd and to Luke's car. Her luggage was in there, and she was not going to start off her twelve weeks without anything. Luke was already there, pulling out her suitcases. Clary took one and together they hauled them towards the blue bus, a tense silence between them. She wouldn't be with Luke for twelve weeks. Twelve full weeks. That's eighty four days, two thousand hours, one-hundred-twenty-thousand minutes, and seven million seconds without Luke. That math startled her, even more than her ability to do all of that in her head.

Lost in thought, she bumped into someone in front of her – someone tall and blonde. She didn't give him much thought, and didn't respond to his snarky retort. When the view of the door to the bus became clear, Clary quickly turned and hugged Luke briefly, before letting go and putting her suitcases besides the piles of other luggage. There were at least fifty other bags piled on top of one another, all laying and probably getting ruined by the snow underneath. And then the time is here: her turn to go on the bus. She took a deep breath and stepped up the stairs, looking around. The inside of the bus seemed comfortable, with blue cushioned seats and heaters placed throughout the bus. She ignored everyone's stares as she sat down in the seat closest to her, which turned out to be the middle of the bus.

The small bus was filling up, leaving only a few seats open. The last person to jump on was a skinny boy with brown hair and glasses. He looked far too geeky to be on a bus full of criminals. He must've seen Clary's gaze on him, for he sat down beside her. Clary gave him an odd look. Why would he sit by her? There were plenty of other seats open, most of them not even occupied by a person. He looked at her, and time slowed. Clary recognized him immediately. He was her childhood best friend before she moved away. "Simon? Simon Lewis?" she choked out.

He grinned. "Hello, Clary Morgenstern."

Clary was stunned. "How did you… what did you do?"

His grin wavered slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, I uh… well you see, there's this… I'll tell you later." He finished, noting people surrounding their seat leaning into their conversation.

Clary nodded and took out her phone and earbuds, scrolling through her song list. Simon leaned over her shoulder and snorted. "Really, Morgenstern? Is my company really that dull?"

Clary glanced up at him. "No, but you're really not giving me a reason to continue our conversation."

He shook his head, looking forward. "I forgot how you are," He muttered, mostly to himself.

She whipped her head up at that. "Oh?" she said, sarcasm lacing her words. "Exactly how am I, Simon?"

He glanced down at her over his glasses, his brown eyes calculating. "You're very direct." Simon, not going into further detail, reached into his backpack and took out a book, plopping it open and propping it against the back of the chair in front of him. Clary snorted and plugged in her earbuds, listening to Stepping Razor and gazing out the window. She felt the bus lurch, and they were off, steering through the many cars in the parking lot and on the main street. The bus was engulfed in a tense silence, no one daring to break it.

She tried to find Luke's truck, but it wasn't in sight. Clary sighed, knowing he probably took off right when she went on the bus. The bus inclined, going up a hill. They were probably in Canada, from the looks of her surroundings. The trees became thick, the snow falling lightly on her window, fogging up any clear image she could make out. Clary leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, becoming lost in her music.

Twelve weeks without her mom. Without Luke. Without her small room, the noise of New York bringing her comfort. She already felt homesick. The trees engulfed whatever sun came through, making the bus go into a dark shadow. The lights in the bus streamed on, earning a few groans from people trying to sleep.

Just as suddenly, Clary's phone beeped, along with many others around the bus. Looking down anxiously, Clary saw, to her dismay, a notification very clear on her screen: _No Signal. _

"No signal?" A girl with long, black hair said, standing up. "What kind of bull is this?"

A guy with white-blonde hair in the back stood up, too. "Screw this," he snarled, moving towards the driver. "We're already ascending into hell. But hell without signal?"

A guy sitting beside him with blonde hair grabbed the back of his leather jacket and hauled the guy back in his seat, saying, "Sebastian, sit down!"

A guy in the row in front of him turned around lazily, again with a pretty shade of gold hair. How many blonde guys are on this bus? "Johnathan, Sebastian, try to control yourselves. There are ladies on this bus."

A guy with black hair sat beside the blonde, coming back from recently making out with a pair of blonde twins in the back. He snorted, wiping off the red lipstick off his cheek. "Yeah, ladies whom are all criminals."

A girl with curly, black hair from the front of the bus stood up. "Do you wish to repeat that, William?" They must be siblings from their startling resemblance and knowledge of names.

"Can you guys _shut up_?" A pretty girl with glossy blonde hair in the front of the bus turned around and snarled. "I'm trying to get my beauty rest in before we arrive."

"Oh, hun," an Asian guy piped up from across her seat, and to Clary's horror, she realized he was wearing better makeup than she was. He was wearing neon yellow pants and a shirt that looks as though a disco ball threw up on it. "You're going to need years' worth of sleep to be considered beautiful."

She snarled at him, but didn't say anything back. A few guys in the back hollered with laughter.

"I for one," a guy with pretty brown hair spoke up, "am wondering if we're going to be able to live together. We're already killing each other, and we haven't even arrived."

"No one cares what you're wondering, Gideon," another guy said, with the same shade of brown hair. They glared at each other, and Clary realized they're probably siblings, too.

Clary wondered if she'll meet her brother here, and if he's on this bus right now. If she even had a brother. Then why would the lady say that, if she didn't? And why would Luke react the way he had reacted if she didn't have a brother? Did her mom have an affair? Was her brother from the same father she had? But her father is dead… right? And why would Jocelyn abandon her baby like that if he were? Does that mean he isn't dead, and Jocelyn had been lying this whole time? Thoughts swirled in her head, causing a massive headache. She groaned and leaned her forehead against the window, the coldness giving her some relief.

Simon looked down at her quizzically. "Hey, you all right?" He nudged her with his elbow, and she shook off his concern.

"Fine," she said, "just contemplating how I'll be able to escape this hell hole."

"Ah, but that's the thing," Simon grinned. "You can't."

The bus rode on, with multiple people speaking up to exclaim their thoughts. Clary tuned them out by listening to her music, though once or twice she would look up and see people making out or yelling at each other. It looked a bit comical, but she was too tired and sad to laugh. Soon enough, music seemed to give her an even bigger headache, so she ripped out her earbuds and shoved her phone in her pocket. She wished she had her sketchbook, which was packed away in her suitcase.

The conversation's volume dwindled, engulfing the bus in another uncomfortable silence. Clary tapped the window, creating an off-tune beat. The person sitting in front of her turned in her seat and glared at Clary. "Can you cut that out?" she sneered, her black, curly hair covering her face. Clary, in exaggeration, took her hand off the window as if it had burned her and placed it in her lap, smiling icily. The girl rolled her eyes and turned back to the front.

As Clary was drifting off into sleep, a guy behind her tapped her shoulder. She turned, and was welcomed with the sight of a hot guy, with sharp jawlines and brown eyes and curly hair. He grinned at her, noting her jaw dropping fractionally. "Hey, pretty thing," he said seductively, "what's your name?"

Clary resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "My name is 'I'm out of your league'." Though Clary was more out of _his_ league, she still felt pride lick the insides of her stomach as he reeled back and switched seats with another girl. What a player.

Simon chucked dryly besides her. She turned towards him. "What? What's so funny?" she demanded.

He looked down at her. "You," He said with a sly smile. "You're borderline hilarious sometimes."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Please, do not mention it."

They remained silent for the rest of the drive.

A loud crash issued behind them. Clary whirled her head, watching the funniest drama unfold in front of her: the two blonde twin's nail polish had fallen out of their purse and has splattered on the surrounding seats, including themselves. They were wailing about the nail polishes being more than everyone's existence. Clary couldn't help it: she laughed along with everyone else on the bus.

As they cleaned the mess up, Clary glanced down at her phone. They've been on the road for almost five hours now. She has 2,011 more hours to go before this punishment is over. That's 120,660 minutes, and over 7,000,000 seconds left. She shook her head, disbelieving the boredom of the bus has driven her to do math that will only make her feel worse.

The steady drive of the bus against gravel lured Clary into a deep sleep, her being conscious only a few times. She would occasionally dream about the conversations happening around her, but mostly she dreamed of home. Of Jocelyn cooking her famous pancakes, of Luke driving them up to the farmhouse, of the memories they have all shared together. Even of Clary's crazy neighbor, Madame Dorthea, Clary had dreamed of her. It had been an odd dream, as Dorthea is an odd woman, but a dream nevertheless.

_Stop,_ she thought bitterly, _it's not like you're never going to see them again. _But the thought of not seeing them for weeks still hurt as much as if she were leaving forever.

The bus lurched, stopping. Everyone's conversation cut off abruptly, and suddenly everyone was looking out the window to see where they have stopped at. The bus parked outside of a large iron gate, a long pathway leading up a mountain on the other side. The driver was clearly talking to whoever controlled the gate. The bus buzzed with activity as everyone pressed their faces firmer against the window, trying to see if they can see the house they're staying in.

But to no avail. The house was too far up on the hill to be seen. Clary shoved a kid out of her personal space, as he was leaning over her to look out of her window. Everyone needs to be under control. They have been on the road for nine hours, sure, but it doesn't mean to act like animals being released from captivity.

The iron gate slowly creaked open, creating a god-awful sound equivalent to a cat shrieking over someone scratching their nails against a chalkboard. And just as sudden, the bus lurched to life, and they were moving again, slowly this time, up the long pathway up the mountain. Behind them, Clary saw the gate slowly close shut, shaking as it locked together. The bus moved up the hill as if the tires were covered in honey – irritatingly slow. The blonde boys in the back cussed the driver out to drive faster than their blind grandmas, which was funny at first, but grew old just as fast.

Up the hill the twenty four teenagers went. Like Clary, most remained quiet and enjoyed the view of Canada. The beautiful green trees loomed up around them, and the prettiest white snow flaked around their bus like stars cascading down to earth. The air was sucked out of Clary as they reached the top of the hill. Green pine trees dipped in fresh snow stretched for miles, touching the tip of the blue skies. The bus hummed in appreciation as they leisurely drove by, the light sun hidden behind fluffy clouds mirroring the snow on earth.

It left their vision as quickly as it came. The view became hidden behind the trees towering on top of the mountain. The bus rolled up to a massive mansion Clary was sure wasn't there moments before. It looked as though it were a forgotten cathedral, the style of the manor very Victorian. The large, glass-stained windows winked at the teenagers, the many roofs coming up to a point, seeming to cut into the sky. Trees surrounding the manor wrapped the house in a nature blanket, hiding the other half of its mysteries.

In front of the manor was a massive, marble fountain of an angel pouring water. The bus drove around it on the circular brick pathway, stopping at the entrance of the house. Clary's nerves sparked. This was it; this is what was waiting for her for months after the hearing. This is why her mother had almost thrown her out of her house. This is what Luke was stressing out over. This is what the school had to hear about in order to lose a month of her education.

After all of that hassle, this is looking more as a vacation than a punishment.

The bus stopped; along with many others, Clary was thrown forward at the sudden change in motion. Clary looked out the window and saw a slender women in a tight, black dress strut out of the massive wooden doors. She held her hips as another man walked out of the manor, his muscles poking through his shirt. He opened the compartment on the side of the bus and began to drag out the luggage.

The spark of Clary's nerves inflamed. People were starting to file out of the bus. She wrung her hands nervously as she and Simon stood up, grabbing their things. Simon wriggled his way in the tightly packed line, and Clary was stuck waiting. The blondes from the back of the bus were by her when one of them, his hair more golden and all golden eyes, stopped to let her go in front of him. His blonde friends protested, but he gestured madly for her to go. Clary shot him an appreciative smile and scrambled out of her little isle to leave the bus. She felt his eyes on the back of her head as she exited the bus, looking for Simon. No one had entered the manor yet, since the woman in the black dress was guarding the entrance.

Everyone was collecting their luggage from the muscular man, and when he pulled out Clary's suitcases, she quickly grabbed them and sat them by her feet; the green designs smudged together in a muddy texture. Clary frowned; this was a Christmas gift, and now it was ruined because of snow. She had no room to complain, since the reason she was here because of vandalizing buildings. In a way, this was payback.

When everyone was associated with their luggage, the woman nodded her head in thanks and in a way of telling him he's excused. He mock-saluted and headed back inside. She turned towards everyone, holding her hands in front of her. She radiated power, from her expensive black dress to her gorgeous makeup job. She held herself up as if the world depended on it.

"Teenagers," she began, earning everyone's attention to be snapped towards her. "You are here for one reason and one reason only: redemption. Do not blow this, for this is your last shot to stay out of jail and for your records to remain clean."

She smiled unnervingly. "My name is Jia Penhallow, and I funded this program. I funded the tightened security in the house and the new appliances and furniture. I chose where you will be staying, and I chose a church built in the 1800's. When you see me in the house, I will be treated with respect."

"I don't get it," piped up one of the blondes – Sebastian, Clary remembers. His name is Sebastian. "Why are we in the middle of nowhere?"

Her icy gaze swept towards him. "Treat me with more respect," she spat, "and don't interrupt me." She cleared her throat and moved her gaze back towards the crowd. "I have placed you here in this location to isolate you from anyone else besides yourselves. You will have to learn to live with the same people, no matter the drama you've caused yourselves, to prove your behavior worthy of prison. Think of this as a more luxuries version of a prison. There is no escape, since you're on top of a mountain. The only escape you have is to rebuild the town and Family Visit time. Did that," she added towards Sebastian, "answer your question?"

He nodded but did not respond.

She took his silence as an improvement. "Good." She smiled tightly. "Now, as of all of you, you're all to unpack in your assigned rooms and to meet me in the dining room for dinner. The travel was long and was sure to be tiring, but after every hard day we all come together for dinner. Of course, this will most likely be my only day to eat dinner with you all, to much of your relief. But as this is a tradition, we will follow through with it, me being present or not."

Everyone was silent. Impatiently, she gestured towards the door. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" She demanded. "Go on in and get settled!"

**I would have continued, but this chapter was awful long - over 5.8k words! I have _huge _plans for this story. So much drama is going to take place, it's like a crossover between Days of our Lives and Jersey Shore. Here's the biggest drama to go down: CLACE, MALEC, SIZZY, & JESSA/WESSA. Most of these ships won't happen until later, so stay tuned. Until next time... **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

**This is officially Chapter dos. I'm really excited to where things are heading in this story, but I fear my chapters are far too long to be considered enjoyable. I'm going to get into the habit of minimizing the content, but as of right now, enjoy another 5k+ word story! **

Clary's room was the first room in the hallway.

The doors all had their names printed on them on a post-it note. Clary didn't know whose room was across from hers or who was beside her, and at the moment didn't care. When she found her room, she quickly slipped inside and closed the door, leaning against the wood frame and closing her eyes. The drive had tired her beyond anything, and more than anything she wanted to curl in a ball and sleep.

Jia's voice woke her senses up, demanding dinner with everyone. Her eyes popped open, and for the first time, she is seeing the room she will be staying in for the next twelve weeks. The oak wooded flooring stands out the most. The wood seemed to shine against the whiteness of the sheets on her four poster bed, the white curtains draped elegantly above her windowsill, the whiteness of her ceiling. The walls were covered in floral wallpaper, tiny flowers printed in bundles across her room. A dark oak dresser was pushed against the wall, a lacey paper clothed over it. She had her own small bathroom.

How, exactly, was this a prison?

She rolled her luggage farther into the room, appreciating the beautiful picture hanging above her dresser. Clary ran her hand across the top of the dresser, and for the first time she noticed a small silver item placed on the lace – a key. A note with cursive writing was tucked under it; she picked it up and read, "The key to your room." Clary tucked the silver key in her pocket and dropped her suitcases on the floor, unzipping the zippers.

She unpacked her clothes first, shoving her pants and shirts into their separate drawers. Then, Clary took out her family pictures and decorated the top of her dresser with memories of Coney Island, Panama City Beach, Chicago, and even some personal pictures of her and Simon, her and her deceased cat, Church, and some more. She tucked her luggage in the windowsill, thankful the seat was big enough to stuff two suitcases. The last thing that was tucked in her baggage was her sketchbook and pencils, which she tucked inside her nightstand to hide it.

Clary was about to tackle the bathroom, when she heard a knock on the door. Curious, she opened the door to see someone she didn't know standing on the other side. She had long black hair and matching charcoal eyes. Clary could describe her in one word: beautiful. The girl was tall with nice curves, long legs to tie everything together. The girl had on a low-cut blue top on and leather black pants, high heels to match. The girl didn't smile. "Dinner's ready," she said, "and it's formal. The name's Isabelle, by the way." And she walked off, not bothering to hear Clary's response or what her name was.

Bitterly, Clary threw on her best, light blue sweater and her only black skirt, hoping this pulls off as formal. She wore her combat boots and tied up her red hair in what she hoped was a fancy-looking bun, and like that she was out the door. The same time Clary opened the door, the girl opposite from her room opened hers, too. She had long brown hair tied in a braid and startling grey eyes. She seemed to not own any formal wear, either, and had resulted in a yellow blouse with dark jeans.

"Tessa," said she.

"Clary."

They walked down the marble staircase together. "So, Clary," Tessa began, "are you from New York?"

"Yeah, I lived there all my life." Clary chanced a glance over at Tessa. "What about you?"

Tessa's eyes became distant as a small smile crept on her face. "I was born in New York," she said softly, "but I was shortly moved to London for about eight years. I moved back home a year ago."

Clary nodded. "Oh, so that's where you get your faint accent from."

Clary and Tessa walked towards the dining room together, talking about Tessa's experience in London. They came upon a grand room, occupying a large oak table big enough to sit up to thirty people and a crystal chandelier that glistened in the window-filled wall that was draped with blood red curtains. Many people were already sitting at the table, and instantly Clary found Simon. She slipped into the seat beside him, idly playing with the fancy silverware placed neatly in front of them.

Simon glanced at her. "How's your room?"

Clary resisted the urge to snort. "Do you always start conversations with small talk?"

"Occasionally," he shrugged. "Only on Tuesdays, though."

"Today's Saturday."

"Then I guess I'm feeling a bit rebellious," he broke off as they both started to chuckle. Their old childhood taunting was slowly creeping back. Clary couldn't help but notice his brown hair having dark highlights embedded between each strand, the flecks of green entrenched in his chocolate-brown eyes.

Clary looked up as she heard commotion come into the dining room. The blondes she had seen on the bus stumbled into the room, all of them exceedingly handsome in their formal wear and laughing. Two out of the three had white blonde hair, while the other had golden blonde hair. Trailing behind them were two more guys with jet-black hair and blue eyes, and for a moment Clary thought they were related, but something seemed off with the structures of both of their faces. They, too, were immensely gorgeous, prettier than she will ever be.

They all sat together on one side of the table, the golden blonde boy sitting directly in front of her. He merely glanced at her before getting engrossed into conversation with the other boys.

Behind them came in the two blonde twins and the girl with long, raven hair – Isabelle, Clary remembered. The girls looked flawless in their revealing, tight dresses. They giggled as they walked passed the hot guys and sat themselves two seats down from Simon. After a few minutes, two more people stumbled in, both obviously from Asian descent, but both extremely different. One's hair was spiked up and had a gallon of sparkled interweaved between each strand, while the other had silver hair. Clary assumed his hair was dyed, when she noticed he also had silver eyes that seemed too real to be a color contact. The silvered haired guy sat beside Tessa, Magnus sitting on the end next to one of the raven haired boys.

After them trailed in two people, their hands interlinked. Clary instantly recognized the guy – he was the one who had tried to hit on her on the bus. So it looks like he found the one, from the looks of them together so openly like that. They sat together, filling up the last of the few empty seats left, next to Simon. Only one seat remained, and it belonged to Jia Penhallow.

"God, that bitch made us come in here at an exact time, and she's late?" Sebastian spoke up, slamming his knife down on the table.

"She's not a bitch," one of the girls spoke up. "She's just strict."

Sebastian snorted. "Yeah, 'strict' my ass."

The girl sitting beside the girl defending Jia piped up. "God, you're an ass," she said, her nose crinkling. "An awful one, that."

Sebastian turned towards her, his eyes flashing alarmingly. "Please," he sneered, "I bet you're just saying that just to attract me, because I'm extremely hot. Am I wrong?"

"You're wrong," she sang happily, tying up her curly blonde hair into a bun. "I don't swing that bat, if you get my drift."

The room became quiet as the guy with sparkly hair winked at her and said, "Same." She grinned over at him, the room becoming twice as quiet. A drop of blood could be heard.

At last, the guy with silver hair spoke up, breaking the silence. "Good for the both of you, opening up your sexuality like that. Most couldn't have done that."

Sparkly-haired man grinned over at him as one of the guys with black hair started to cough uncontrollably. Clary glanced over at him curiously; he caught her gaze and flushed. "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm very open in my sexuality," said Sparkly-haired man. "I'm sure is pretty obvious, from how I present this gorgeous piece of work." He gestured to himself.

The girl with blonde hair smiled down at the silver-haired guy. "I'm the same – very open."

"Well isn't this nice, all of us having a small gay pride parade." Sebastian sneered, earning a few giggles from the blonde twins. He smiled at them, which caused them both to blush.

"Sebastian," Golden haired boy warned. "That's enough."

Sebastian looked down at him with mock horror. "Don't tell me you're gay too, Jace."

The previously-coughing boy looked up anxiously as Jace smiled down at Sebastian. "Nah, I'm pretty secure in my sexuality." The coughing boy looked back down at his lap.

"Me too," said blonde guy number three, leaning back in his chair. "Secure in my sexuality, that is."

"Well isn't _that _worth a celebration." A cold voice answered from the doorway, causing everyone's heads to be snapped towards the entrance. There stood Jia Penhallow, in the same clothes she had worn from when they had first arrived. The third blonde guy flushed, ducking his head.

The girl who had originally spoken up ducked her head, too. Jia sat down at the head of the table, ringing a silver bell by her plate. Then came in two maids in cliché maid uniforms pushing carts full of food, earning catcalls from the hot guys. Clary rolled her eyes. They came around and placed some food on everyone's plate, which consisted of a small salad, a steaming slice of bread, and chicken pasta, all served in fancy white-with-gold-trim bowls.

"Do you have a vegan option?" asked Simon, turning in his chair. The maid raised her pencil eyebrow and used one of her forks to pick out the chicken from his pasta. He muttered an inexplicable 'thanks' as she placed the same food in front of Clary. The food smelled good, and the scent of the bread made Clary want to dive in and eat. But the look on Jia's face held her back.

When everyone was served, Jia thanked the maids for their service, and they all retreated into the double kitchen doors. Jia looked at everyone across the table levelly. "Before we eat, it is a tradition in my family to thank God for bringing the food before us. Is anyone not fully resigned to do that?"

Simon raised his hand. "I'm Jewish."

Few people snickered at that. Jia rolled her eyes to the ceiling and asked, "Can you act as though you're praying to your God?"

"No can do," said Simon, leaning back in his chair. "I already prayed three times today."

Jia looked as though she were ready to kill Simon. "Alright, fine," she snapped. "Then don't participate." She dropped her head and began a prayer; simultaneously, everyone but Simon followed her lead. Clary glanced up at Simon to see him grinning ear to ear like an idiot. She couldn't help but laugh a little at that herself.

Finished, Jia lifted her head and began to eat, everyone doing the same. Clary stabbed at her salad, not feeling as hungry as she originally thought. The mere thought of her brother sitting in this same room with her sparked her nerves, filling up any room for hunger. She ate a few bites of her pasta and salad, before giving up on the attempt to eat completely.

Clary took the time to look at everyone closely while they were too enthralled into their food to notice anything else. She first looked at Jace across from her, seeing if he bore any resemblance to herself. He didn't, but he looked very attractive eating. Clearing her thoughts of Jace, she studied everyone else, but none of them seemed to fit her description of her brother. She sighed, stabbing into her pasta. It tasted more like slime than anything edible.

The room filled with clinking of forks against plates, the impact of the cup against the table, the soft murmur of conversation, rapidly dwindled as Jia tapped her spoon against her wine glass. She smiled as everyone's attention turned towards her. "This has been our first dinner in the manor," she said happily, "and you've all managed to survive. I've got to say, I didn't expect such great manners from a group of criminals,"

She stood up, throwing down the napkin in her lap on the table. "You're all excused. Tomorrow is your first Day-off, so you have plenty of time to have acquaintance with everyone and to become settled." She rung her silver bell once again, and the same maids who have served them came bustling in, collecting the dirty plates on their carts. Jia filed out, and soon after, the teens did as well.

Clary and Simon walked up the marble staircase together. "That was…interesting," said Simon. "I don't think I've ever had such a fancy dinner."

Clary threw a sideways look at him. "I call bullshit," She grinned as Simon whipped his gaze towards hers. "What about all those dinners you had at my house?"

He smiled. "Oh man, how can I ever forget the fanciness of microwavable macaroni and cheese?"

Clary couldn't help but chuckle.

The top of the marble staircase branches off into two separate hallways. Clary and Simon separate, and Clary happily obliges to heading straight into her room. The unfamiliarity of it brings sadness as Clary wishes she were back in New York, listening to the hustle of traffic and the shouts of pedestrians. Now, all that's left is the chirping of the birds in the morning, nothing nearly as comforting as a grown man yelling at someone for spilled coffee.

Sighing, Clary crossed her room to her dresser, taking off her dinner outfit and slipping on some running shorts and a tank top. Clary carefully folded her dinner clothes and tucked them back into the dresser, them not being very dirty. She slipped into her bathroom and did her daily night routine: She first takes off her makeup and brushes her teeth, then she undoes her hairstyle and ties it in a loose braid.

Clary studied herself in the mirror for a moment, taking in her darkened green eyes and her bright red hair, currently in knots. She pondered for a moment who in this house could possibly be her brother, and if he was a half or a full blooded brother to her. What if she never finds out, and then ends up developing a crush on him? Clary hopes that is not nor never will be the case.

Feeling content as she ever will feel with herself, Clary turned away from the mirror and turned off the lights in the bathroom, crossing over to her bed. She never really bothered to turn on the lights when she walked in, so soon enough the sun illuminating her room will die down and she will be engulfed into darkness.

She climbed into her four-poster bed and slipped under the white sheets. Reaching down, Clary opened the bottom drawer to her nightstand and took out her sketch book and her pencils. She flipped open the closest clean sheet and began a complex sketch full of angles and turns. She would sketch, shade, smudge, and sketch some more, careful on the small details. Hours drifted by, and dark shadows pooled itself in her room.

Soon enough, her room was too dark to remain sketching. Clary tucked the sketch book back in her night stand, quietly closing the drawer. She then wiggled deeper into the comforter of the bed, the warmth trapped under the blankets drowsing her senses. Clary fell into a deep, dark sleep, filled with dreams of a mystery blonde.

She woke up instantly to an audible knocking coming from her door. She groaned and tried to block out the noise with her pillow, but to no avail. The knocker was consistent. Muttering a curse, Clary flopped herself out of bed and padded to her door, swinging it open with a bit too much force, slamming into the wall beside it.

A pretty girl was standing outside of it, obviously startled. She was more than pretty; the girl was _gorgeous,_ with her black hair and her deep, blue eyes, wearing a matching blue dress that flowed from her arms, the silk touching the tips of her knees. Clary suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness as she took in the sight of the pretty girl, mentally comparing themselves in her running shorts. The girl jumped back a little when the door opened. "Oh, sorry to disturb you – wait, were you _sleeping_?"

"Yes," said Clary irritably. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, right. Well, everyone is downstairs, and we're playing a few games to get to know each other. Do you wish to join?"

Clary raised her eyebrows and gestured to herself. "I'm literally in my pajamas, and you're dressed as if Cover girl is paying you to be that pretty. Do I _look _like I want to join?"

The girl smiled. "I guess not," she held out her hand. "I can fix you up, make you look a bit more presentable," she dropped a glittery wink. "There are hot guys out there, you know. Might want to impress one before they all get taken by Slut one and Slut two."

Clary smiled, liking this girl more and more. "I take it you're referring to the two blonde twins?"

"Who else?" The girl grinned; she flicked her outstretched wrist impatiently. "Come on, I'll get Isabelle to help with your transformation. I'm Cecily, by the way. Cecily Herondale."

This time, Clary took her hand. "I'm Clary Morgenstern."

Cecily led her out into the hallway as Clary closed the bedroom door closed behind her. "Well, Clary," said she, "you're about to get the make-over of the lifetime. Wait here," she stopped Clary before she became visible downstairs. Cecily leaned over the marble railing overlooking the lovely living room. "HEY, ISABELLE! MEET ME IN MY ROOM, _NOW_!" She turned around and grinned at Clary as Isabelle scurried up the stairs.

Isabelle looked beautiful. Her dark hair was tied up in a braided bun, a few strands framing her flawless face. She had gorgeous charcoaled eyes, brought to a wing with flawless eyeliner and eye shadow. She, too, was dressed up; Isabelle wore a tight black dress with long sleeves, showing her figure perfectly. She smiled a perfect smile, completing her look of perfection. Clary instantly felt jealous.

"Isabelle, this is Clary. Clary, Isabelle," Isabelle flashed a quick smile at Clary, who returned it. "Alright, since we're all 'acquainted,' as Jia would say, let's fix Clary up." Cecily grinned at them both, walking down the hallway.

Isabelle caught Cecily's arm. "Let's take this to my room – I think I have a dress that will match her red hair."

The two girls led Clary into the fourth room on the left, the side Tessa stays on. Isabelle took out the familiar silver key from her bra and opened her door; she slipped in, Cecily hot on her tracks. Clary followed Cecily, and immediately thought she walked in a disco ball. The walls were drenched in silver-with-back glitter and sparkles, the oak flooring covered by a white, fluffy rug. Two cans of paint lay discarded in the corner. The room style matched Clary's, but as of right now, nothing could be more different.

"Were painting the walls allowed?" asked Clary, lighting running her hand over the wall. It came back dry.

Isabelle snorted. "Probably not."

Celine laughed silently, looking around Isabelle's room in interest.

Isabelle strutted over to her windowsill and opened the top; Cecily led Clary onto the trunk at the foot of the four poster bed. Clary sat down on it, watching both of the girls apprehensively. Isabelle was pulling dresses out and scattering them on the floor. Cecily left to head into the bathroom, looking for the right shades of makeup. Clary tucked a piece of red hair behind her ear. "I don't get it," said Clary as Isabelle seemed content with a tight, black dress. "Why are you guys being so nice to me?"

Cecily snorted as she brought out a bag of makeup. "It's just like Jia said: we're stuck together for twelve weeks," she knelt in front of Clary, her blue eyes analyzing her skin tones. "Might as well be friendly to one another."

Isabelle brought over the black dress. "You see, I don't see it like that," she said, holding up the dress to Clary, puckering her red lips. "I know when I see a good person who deserves a second chance. The people in here…well, most of them don't. But you, Clary, seem different. You're not trying to look intimidating, or tough – you look normal. That's why I'm being nice: Because you're different, and being different is good." She turned towards Cecily. "Does this color bring out her red hair and eyes enough?"

Clary felt oddly touched. Is that how people really think about her?

"It's perfect, Izzy," Cecily turned to Clary. "Alright Clare, put this on and we'll get started on your make-up."

Numbly, Clary nodded and collected the dress from Isabelle, stumbling into the bathroom. She took off her shorts and tank top, slipping on the back dress. It was way too short and tight, the hem grazing the tops of her thighs. She looked in the mirror and blushed; the dress was revealing as well, with black lace outlining her collar bone, connecting lace shoulder to shoulder, a small gap where her nonexistent chest was supposed to be revealed.

Clary walked out of the bathroom and saw Isabelle and Cecily sorting through make-up. Isabelle looked up at Clary and smiled, gesturing her to sit back down on the trunk. "You look _gorgeous_!" she gushed, applying some powder on her face. Cecily jumped on the bed behind Clary and began to tackle her red hair. "But of course," Isabelle continued, applying dark eye shadow and liquid black eyeliner, "Every princess needs a touch-up." Finishing the mascara, she took out blood red lipstick out of the bag and applied it to Clary's lips.

Clary felt Cecily tug and pull and brush at her hair. She closed her eyes, lost in the feeling of someone else taking care of her. She felt Cecily's fingers run through her hair, the light touches of brushes pressed lightly on her face. With a few last tugs and touches, they were done, holding up a hand mirror in front of Clary's face.

She gasped; the person reflected in the mirror looked nothing like Clary. She saw Isabelle's flawless work of makeup, the powders and liquids combined perfectly to give Clary a beautiful look. Her red hair was pinned and braided back into a spiral bun, a few strands of curls framing her delicate, pale face. The red lipstick stood out against her pale skin, and the most startling feature: her green eyes. The emerald seemed to shine through the layers of makeup, freezing Clary in place.

She was breathtaking.

"Thank you guys," she whispered, lightly trailing her enhanced cheekbones. "I look – different."

"Different in a good way?" Cecily asked hopefully, jumping off the bed. Isabelle helped Clary stand up.

"Different in an amazing way." She grinned, earning her smiles from Isabelle and Cecily.

Isabelle clapped her hands together. "Let's not dwell in this room too long," she exclaimed happily, heading out the door. "We have someone to show off!"

Cecily laughed as she hauled Clary out the room, who was strangely reluctant to leave. Isabelle strutted down the marble staircase, earning attention from most of the guys downstairs. Cecily pulled Clary down along with her, and instantly Clary was getting catcalls.

Clary flushed as she walked down the stairs. The living room was filled with many different-looking people, everyone as attractive as the next. The living room occupied five couches and three loveseats, and already all of them except one couch were filled. Some people sat on the floor, not bothering to touch the empty couch.

Clary knew why as Cecily led her to the couch where Isabelle was already sitting – it was reserved. She sat down in between Isabelle and Cecily, mimicking their near-perfect posture.

"Well, if it weren't for the only red head in the house!" The third blonde said, leaning in. "We thought you were going to be the hermit in the house, but from the way you clean up…" he eyed her appreciatively.

One of the blonde twins cleared her throat, and he looked over curiously. If looks could kill, the twin would've murdered him right then and there. "Johnathan!" she accused, sending him a glare.

"What can a man say?" Said the black haired boy with blue eyes, who had some sort of connection between Cecily. "He likes to know his options."

Cecily groaned. "Will, you're disgusting."

Clary couldn't help it; the curiosity was killing her. "Is there something between you two? A relationship –"

Will broke off laughing as Cecily roared out a "No!" looking scandalized, as if Clary had just admitted to robbing her. "William is my brother!"

Clary flushed with embarrassment. "Well, is there any other siblings in the house I should know about?"

Isabelle looked up from filing her nails. "I have a brother in here," said she, pointing to the other boy with black hair and blue eyes. The coughing boy from dinner. "Alec."

Alec looked up from his conversation with the sparkly man. "What?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes as the brown haired boy – Gideon – answered, "My brother is this twat, Gabriel." He jerked his chin to a similar looking boy sitting beside him, who was currently flirting with a girl Clary did not recognize. So many names. She smiled over at him.

"And who can forget," interrupted Jace, indicating to the twins practically in his lap, "these rebellious angel twins, Kaelie and Seelie." Clary looked at the twins, who both had curly blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Their dresses would have been considered lingerie anywhere else, but in this house it was considered 'classy.' The golden twins looked up and smiled a twisted smirk.

Clary tried her best to suppress an eye roll.

"Those are all the siblings, right?" Cecily asked, scanning the room.

_Apparently not, _Clary thought, but didn't voice it out loud.

"Jordan, _stop_!" the curly-haired girl squealed, earning her curious glances. Jordan was kissing her jaw, and the girl looked as though she was about to give in to sex right then and there.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "If you guys are feeling kinky, go to your room – we don't need any of that in front of a few fifteen year olds." He shot a look at the two younger kids sitting in the room.

One of the fifteen year olds, the boy, scoffed. "You're only seventeen, two years older than us."

"I'm eighteen," Sebastian corrected, "and you are?"

"Julian," he said defiantly, sticking up his chin.

"Well, Julian, you can stick your fifteen years of your life right up your –"

_"Jordan!" _The girl squealed. Clary looked over wearily, and paused. Jordan lifted up the girl in his arms, and he was charging with her over his shoulders upstairs towards the boys' side of the hallway. Maia's squeals cut off as the sound of a bedroom door slammed shut.

Johnathan chuckled dryly. "Well, that's that. The first couple to have sex goes to Jordan and Maia." _Maia,_ Clary thought. _So that's that girl's name. _

"I bet," the silver-boy spoke up, "they're going to be the first couple to break up. Probably over a tragedy, like cheating."

Everyone murmured in agreement.

The glossy-blonde girl piped up. "Can you _stop _touching my heels?" She threw a nasty look at the lesbian girl. "I don't want my babies to be infected by gayness."

The blonde girl rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you can move your heel from my back, I won't 'infect' your 'babies' with my 'gayness.'"

"Jessamine, why don't you move somewhere else," said sparkly man. "Maybe back upstairs?"

Jessamine looked over at him. "_Make_ me." She crossed her arms defiantly.

The sparkly man cocked an eyebrow, beginning to rise from his chair. Jessamine squealed and scrambled up, scurrying across the room and plopping on Sebastian's lap. He more than happily obliged, snaking his arms around her waist. "Magnus," said Sebastian, "that was a little harsh for a delicate girl, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't know," he said. "I don't date girls, therefore I have no recollections as to how they're like, or what their limitations for intimidation are." He threw a disgusted look over at Jessamine, who was currently cramming her face between Sebastian's shoulder blade and neck. "Obviously, they can't handle much."

Jace and Johnathan laughed.

Clary hadn't really been paying attention. The more she watched Johnathan act, the more she saw herself in him. The way he laughed, the way he grinned, the way he joked around. Could he be her brother?

He noticed her staring at him, and his laughing paused momentarily. Clary noticed he had green eyes, just like hers. He has the same nose, the same shape of the eyes. Clary narrowed her eyes, studying him further. He has mom's jawline, something Clary would die for. His brows furrowed, taking her in for the first time. "I –" he broke off. "Have we met before?"

Numbly, she shook her head. People sitting around stared at them curiously, watching their stare-down.

"Your full name," Clary blurted. She blushed a little and cleared her throat. "What is it?"

Johnathan threw her a cautious look. "My name is Johnathan," he said slowly. "Johnathan Christopher Morgenstern."

Clary's breath caught, the world shattering around her. It was just her and Johnathan in her vision, and she suddenly felt dizzy, as if she stepped over a ledge and was falling, falling deep down into a hole she had dug. "My last name… is _also_ Morgenstern." She choked out, clutching the armrest.

Johnathan's eyebrows rose to impossible heights. His voice had sunk to a whisper. "I have a – a sister?" His eyes widened as the realization sunk in. "You're my sister?"

Everyone's conversation paused, and Clary suddenly felt a dozen eyes on her and Johnathan. She couldn't look away from him, couldn't see everyone's stares. She was staring at her brother. _She has a brother. _"How – who _raised_ you?" Clary asked quietly, her words bouncing through the room.

"My dad," he said, pausing. "Or I guess our dad, right?"

Clary shook her head. "I thought our dad was dead. At least, that's what my mo- I mean, _our_ mom said,"

Johnathan reeled back. "Dad said mom was the one who died," he thought for a moment. "Her name is Jocelyn, right?"

Clary blanched. "Yes – yeah, that's her name. Our father is –"

"Valentine," Johnathan finished, looking as if someone told him he was going to die.

Clary's voice caught, the air sucking out of her lungs. No one dared to speak.

Time stretched on, as if someone were stretching out a taunt wire, the string becoming tenser as the time stretched on, the air buzzing with tension and excitement. Clary and Johnathan continued to stare at each other, sizing each other up, studying their features, matching each other up, and comparing one another. Johnathan blushed and looked away from her, closing his eyes. "As my sister," he said, flexing his hand, "I would really appreciate it if you didn't wear such a short dress."

Clary shot him a look. "We just found out we're siblings, and you're already controlling what I wear?" She snorted. "That was fast."

He looked back at her and glared. "Tomorrow, we're going to piece everything together. As for right now –" He broke off as he stood from the couch, stretching out his shoulders like a cat. "I'm going to bed." He crossed the living room and padded up the marble staircase, not looking back.

Everyone's gaze turned to Clary. Clary looked at Cecily and Isabelle, whose eyes were both blown wide open. Though she is everything but, Clary shrugged nonchalantly, raising her hands. "Surprise?"

**Okay! Johnathan and Clary finally found out they are siblings, which is a relief, since John was checking her out earlier. *cringe* As of right now, I'm posting a chapter every other day, but soon enough I'm going to get in the habit of posting once a week. This posting-a-chapter-every-day isn't going to work in my schedule. I'm also writing quite a lot for a chapter, so very soon I'm going to minimize the content in each chapter (which I said above). This chapter is 5.7k+ words, which is a lot for a single chapter. Also, I'm already done with chapter three (which will go up in two days), and let me give you a small spoiler: JESSA. That is all. **

**~MJ **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

**A/N: In the first chapter (I think, don't hold this against me), I said Clary is missing a month of school to do this project, and from the looks of Canada, it's winter. That might seem a bit odd. It was a typo: I meant Clary would be missing three months of school work, not one. I'll explain why this punishment couldn't be held in the summer later on in the story. So as of right now, it is November in the story. Clary is going to be gone for all of November, December, and January. **

**The last chapter, as I have realized, was **_**very **_**cliché. I didn't fully realize it was until I posted it. I mean, sure, I could go back and change it, but that would take time from working on newer chapters, and I'm already slowly running out of time to write. So bear with me if something is over cliche. **

**The POV is no longer Clary; now Tessa holds the microphone. The beautiful, witty Tessa. No worries, Clary will be a POV later on, when Clace really starts to heat up. As of right now, Clace is just a baby ash, nothing inflamed. Jordan/Maia inflamed pretty quickly, but drama may or may not snuff the flame out. You'll have to read to see (; This chapter is only Jessa, but chapter four is in Johnathan's point of view. Thank you for the reviews! I have read and almost cried over them I was so happy. Keep them coming, folks! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; that title goes to the one and only Cassandra Clare. **

Tessa couldn't pinpoint exactly why she had committed her actions.

Was it worth it at the time? Of course. Was it worth it now? Absolutely not.

She looked out through the balcony, watching the white stars dip into the horizon. The air was a bitter cold; she hugged her loose sweater closer to herself. The wind whipped her hair, causing her eyes to sting. Blinking, Tessa ducked against the wind of Canada. She had left the gathering of everyone early and went exploring around the house for some where quiet. She needed to think, to clear her thoughts. She stumbled upon the main bedroom, and, swinging open the double doors, quietly padded to the doors of the balcony. _Perfect. _

The memories of printed swirled her thoughts like food coloring in water, tainting her brisk calm. Recollections of choosing fake names, printing and laminating in secret, having to drive to different stores for necessities, have been forcing themselves to the front of her mind, distracting her of anything else. So many lies she had spun. So many lives she had undoubtedly ruined. Maybe accepting this punishment rather than jail was a bit selfish…

"Enjoying the view?"

Tessa whipped her head to the source of the noise. There stood James Carstairs, whom she had previously met on the bus. His silvery hair whipped from the wind; he had his hands shoved in his black trousers, a disheveled look to his stance. He was smiling at her, a happy (and a bit satisfactory) gleam in his eyes.

"How did you find me?"

He didn't move. "You look like the kind of girl to enjoy peace," he gestured to the scenery before them with a jerk of his chin. "This is peaceful." After narrowing her eyes suspiciously, James chuckled. "You left a trail of open doors behind you. I followed them, curious to see who would want to be alone. I was hoping it was going to be you, and it looks as though my wish had been granted." He smiled sheepishly at her.

Tessa offered a weak smile back. "Back to your earlier question," said she, turning away from him and gazing at the distance. "I _am_ enjoying the scenery." With a single sweep of her arm, she indicated to the breath-taking view of Canada. "You don't see beautiful nature in New York like you do in Canada." She glanced back at James.

The corner of his mouth quirked up as he pushed himself next to her, his arms draped over the marble balcony. Tessa studied him for a moment as he gazed out into the distance, the way he seemed to hold himself up with confidence, yet it was a healthy confidence, the kind that forced a smile upon anyone's lips. He doesn't even look like the person to break a girl's heart; only to rebuild, to mend. "That," he said softly, "is very much accurate."

Tessa shook her head, swallowing a lump. "I wish accuracy applied to me."

Curious, James drew his gaze from the view and stared at her. "Excuse me?"

_Crap, _Tessa scolded herself quietly. _I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. _Maybe she could lie to cover up her loud mouth, but lying to James seemed very wrong, considering his kindness towards her. But seeing him with disappointment in his eyes would feel like a bullet to the heart. _He's here for a reason, _her mind whispered, _he's a criminal, too; like you. _

"The reason I'm here," she sighed, fully knowing she had to tell him eventually, "is because I was convicted of impersonation. I faked being someone else for personal gain, and I'm disgusted with myself."

James sighed, hanging his head. His silvery head turned towards her, holding his gaze upon hers, silver against gray. "Why," he asked, "would you do that?" His head shook slightly in confusion, brows furrowing together.

Tessa looked away from him, knowing she wouldn't be able to handle to look at the judgment written in his eyes. "I used fake identification cards to help pay for my aunt's groceries, and her alcohol problem." Said she, her bottom lip catching between her teeth. She braced herself for his answer.

He didn't respond at first; Tessa peeked at him worriedly in the edge of her vision. He seemed to be lost in thought, but his judging-free expression sent a wave of relief over her, enabling her breathing again.

"Let me get this straight," said James, finally speaking to her. "You used false I.D cards to pay for your aunt's addiction towards alcohol, and in doing so, furthering her compulsion, ending you up in the same position as you were before?" He finally looked over at her, and this time, Tessa could make out the twinge of disappointment. It stung more than she would like to admit.

"It wasn't like that." said Tessa quickly, but it was _exactly_ like that. Her aunt was frail and weak, having previously ingested poisonous chemicals accidentally when cooking by herself one day. She became sick ever since then, and being over 68, being ill was a big deal. Aunt Harriet never walked again, and she remained in her bed, depressed and alone, unable to move. Her only necessity was alcohol, because it "decreased her pain." Tessa, eaten up with guilt for having never been there when she was cooking that day, did everything in her power to make her aunt happy again, and if it involved breaking the law to deepen an infatuation, she would do just that. And she did, and look where that landed her?

James ruffled his hair. "You know what? It doesn't really matter. The past is the past, and nothing in our power could ever rewrite it."

His words sent a shiver down her spine, a harsh cold that stabbed her deeper than the bitter wind swirling cruelly around them. "I just wish," she spoke, "that weren't true. That the past was something you can easily change, as if one could erase words off a page or to chisel stone." She hugged herself as another huge wave of wind smacked against her, rocking her back on her heels. "But one mustn't dwell on such thoughts, as they will never be accomplished."

James chuckled dryly, coming out harsh in the bitter, cold air. "Truths are hard to grasp, as lies are easy to contain," he finally said after a moment's pause. He glanced at her. "It's always easy to accept the first thing that swings your way, but realizing the outcomes of your actions is always going to be a heavier blow."

"I know," said Tessa quietly. "I've learned from personal experience." She looked back out into the scenery of Canada; the night sky darkened the view, the stars the only source of illumination. "Now here I am, stuck in this house filled with 'rebellious' teenagers, when I should be home with my aunt," Tessa turned back towards James. "I had to turn her over to a nursing home, you know."

He closed his eyes briefly, breathing in. "You speak as though she was your responsibility, as if no one else could have taken care of her."

"That's because there _is_ no one." Tessa didn't understand why she was telling James all of this. She hadn't ever spoken to someone about her personal issues, so why should she spill them all to someone she had never met? But a feeling of trust radiated off him; something very rare to find in someone. "My parents are both dead, and so are my grandparents. I've never met my dad's side of the family, and my brother still lives in London, doing God-knows-what with his life – gambling, I suspect." Even in the harsh wind Tessa sounded bitter.

James made a move to reach for her hand, but drew back hastily, obviously thinking better of his actions. Swallowing, he looked back out to the stars, the soft glow illuminating his best features: The edge to his sharp jawline, the glint in his silver eyes, the curl of his lip as he smiles. "Everyone has their struggles, and their reasons for them," was all he said.

Tessa resisted the urge to snort, as that might not have been the most attractive thing to do in front of James. "Yeah, sure – gambling away all his expenses when his baby sister desperately needed his aid, ignoring every letter, email, text, and phone call sent out to him. I doubt he's anything more than a drunk, poor man, hitting up every bar and casino he happens to stumble upon," All her pent-up anger seeped out then, and she struggled to contain it. "I'm so sick of it, of _him_."

James shook his head. "He just needs guidance," he said, "a firm hand. Not that your hand isn't firm," he added quickly, carefully watching Tessa's reactions. "I meant he needs someone who is not a family member to reach out and help."

"Yes," said Tessa, momentarily distracted by his words. "Yeah, that's what he needs."

James glanced at her wearily. "Are you feeling alright?"

A gush a wind pushed against them; Tessa shivered, hugging herself tighter. "I just wish," she said bitterly, "it wasn't _so cold_ here. It feels like I'm slowly going numb."

"I know the feeling," said James. "Being numb, I mean."

Tessa chanced a sideways glance at him. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "What do you _think _I mean, Tessa?" He glanced down at himself, ruffling his already wind-blown hair. He looked back up, staring deep into Tessa's eyes.

_It means you've been really, really cold before. _Tessa paused, her lips parted. That was her initial answer, yet from one look in his eyes, she knew it weren't the right one. Tessa knew Will Herondale, that infuriating, black-haired-blue-eye-combination boy every girl is lusting for, had something to do with James's punishment, and that was why they were both assigned in this. She had seen James and Will be secretive on the bus, Will offering a plastic bag of green stuff to James, James accepting it inconspicuously, only he had an audience. She saw him stuff the bag into his pants, and his hand hadn't left the obvious lump until they entered the house.

She looked down; there wasn't a lump anymore.

Everything pieced together. She gasped suddenly, stepping back into the marble railing. "You- you're a drug addict, aren't you?" Tessa demanded. "And Will's your drug dealer?"

He silently nodded, turning back to the scenery.

Fury licked the insides of Tessa's gut. Why would he throw his life away for a packet of mushed-up plants? And why would he and Will even get associated in the druggie-part of the world in the first place? "Oh, and for what?" She snapped, hands balling into fists. "A good high? Maybe, it's to 'escape your troubles,' because being an addict isn't bad enough. Well guess what? I've seen addictions first-hand, and let me tell you, they _aren't_ as glamorous as to what they're pent up to be."

He looked back at her curiously; in seeing her expression his eyes widened. "No – No, by the Angel, Tessa, it's not what you think!"

"Oh, really?" Tessa took a step forward him, and he stepped back fractionally. "Then elaborate exactly why you smoke, James. And it better be goddamned worth it, whatever your reason is."

He fixed his steely, silver gaze towards her. "Medical marijuana," he said, noticeably trying to push down his obvious anger. "I smoke medical marijuana, because it helps… my illness." He turned away from her and threw himself against the marble railing, purposely turned away from Tessa.

Tessa felt immediately awful, her previous anger rapidly dwindled. "Illness? Medical Marijuana? Oh, James, I'm sorry –"

He chuckled dryly, his laugh bitter in the harsh wind. "Don't apologize, Tess," he said. "There was no way for you to know. Except, of course, my silver hair might've been a good sign." James still hadn't looked away from the distance, but Tessa saw a ghost of a smile light up his face for a split second, occurring so fast Tessa thought she had imagined it.

She momentarily felt bewildered. "Your _hair_?" She stepped closer to him, crossing her arms next to his outstretched ones. "What does your hair have to do with anything?"

He turned towards her, and for the first time Tessa noticed the dark shadows in his eyes, black crescents hanging like signs under his silvery gaze. She had never seen someone so bone-deep tired, so _exhausted_ in her life. He seemed to have stripped the false expression he wore around the house off entirely, his true colors seeping out. She willed herself to not reach out and stroke silver hair out of his face, knowing he might not like the gesture.

"My hair," said James, "isn't real hair. It's fake. Though it is truly my hair, as the doctors glued it onto my skull," He tugged at it; the hair didn't budge. Tessa opened her mouth to speak, but he held his hand up. "Don't interrupt, please." he dropped his hand from his hair and gently took Tessa's hand, rubbing her cold fingers in his warm palms. She gasped as shocks went up her arm where he touched.

James continued as if not noticing Tessa's small intake of breath at his sudden gesture. "The reason it is silver is because, as a joke, Will put in some dye into my shampoo. Only, it wasn't dye. The chemicals in the substance – I don't even know what it was, nor does Will – messed with my melanin, causing my eyes to turn silver as well. The coloring never came out of my hair, and from this point, it never will. The doctors basically said that though the chemical isn't harmful, it had permanently changed my eye color,"

Tessa couldn't help it; she interrupted. "That _asshole!" _Fury uncoiled in her stomach like a serpent, venom shooting into her words. "He changed who you are! You're physical appearance! How can you stand to be _around_ him?"

"Because," said James slowly, "he saved my life not too long after,"

Tessa paused at this, becoming very still. "What do you –"

"I'm diagnosed with thyroid cancer."

"Oh." Tessa stared at him, motionless. The boy in front of her, the one guy that seemed happy, carefree, smiled to lift spirits, went out of his way to help others, praised gays for their sexuality, the neutral in every argument… and he was diagnosed with cancer? Tessa's throat constricted painfully; she swallowed the lump forming in her throat down with every possible effort to not cry.

James took her silence as a sign to go on, eyes distant. "I have known I've had cancer before I met William. But a few days after the incident with the chemicals, I had an attack without any professionals near me. It was a bad one, too. My lungs filled with blood, and I couldn't speak without doubling over and coughing up blood. Will was the only one around, and he rushed me to the hospital just in time. If it weren't for him… well, I would be dead."

Tessa choked down tears. "Oh, _James_ –"

"Don't." he said it with force, blinking; Tessa realized he was pushing tears back as well. "If I don't spill it out now, I'll never be able to bring myself to say anything else," His words seemed to pain him as he spoke, misery written clear on his expression. Misery, and acceptance – two things that should never be combined. "And please, call me Jem. It's what Will calls me."

"Of course!" Tessa, though feeling tired herself, perked up with a thrumming energy to bring happiness into Jem's life.

He smiled, which instantly dropped as he continued. "Ever since then, Will had been searching day and night for a cure. I told him to stop, that I knew I was going to die, but he wouldn't listen. Eventually, he seemed to have given up. But one day, my doctor called, saying a 'generous giver' had given them a possible cure. I knew, then, Will had lied to my face, but he did it: he found a cure."

Tessa smiled in behalf of Will's victory, but she instantly regretted it by the haunted look on James's face. "That day I rushed to the hospital with my heart on my sleeves, and then the doctor crushed it by handing me a packet filled with information on a drug named _cannabis_. I declined, but he said it might be the only option. The only catch was that he had to ask the local government for permission, as the drug had been illegal at that time. They said no."

Jem took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to calm his nerves. Tessa gave up on the attempt to remain emotionless; hot tears streaked down her face, and she occasionally sniffed and wiped at her eyes.

"I told Will this, and he didn't give up on the attempt to make me better. The next day, he gave me a packet of the drug. I asked him where he got it, but he shrugged it off, saying it didn't matter. Only it did, very much," Wind cut off what he was going to say next, the air howling in their ears.

Jem sighed, but continued. "He got caught earlier last month, growing his own cannabis. He was going to take the blame, but I stepped up and claimed it was for me, and I have been purchasing the illegal drug. We have tried to defend the case by claiming it was legal to have medical marijuana, but Imogen declared it illegal, since the growth of it had started before cannabis was legalized. We both been tried and convicted of fraud and illegal growth of marijuana."

Tessa couldn't keep herself back; she flung herself in Jem's arms, hugging him tightly, as if she were the only thing keeping him together. She pressed her face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent of boy cologne and sunlight. Jem wrapped his arms around Tessa's waist, hugging her body closer to him. Lightly, Tessa felt him kiss the top of her head, sending shivers down her spine. For the first time since arriving, a feeling of warmth and home wash over her.

"You're a good person, Jem," she whispered, gripping on his light blue dress shirt. "Don't let past actions or rash decisions change that thought."

She felt his chest expand and his hot breath scatter her hair. He lightly tugged on a strand of brown hair in a loving manor. "I know," Jem spoke softly. "I know, and thank you."

"Thank _me_?" asked Tessa incredulously. She looked up at Jem's smiling face. "Thank _you_ for telling me this. I appreciate it, really."

He didn't answer, but the warm glow that radiated from his smile told Tessa all she ever needed to know at that moment. They stood together like that in a comfortable silence, clinging on to each other as if they'll never let go, the only source of heat in the November air of Canada.

* * *

><p>"No, but really: do you really think Maia and Jordan are going to last?"<p>

Tessa snorted as she popped another piece of chocolate in her mouth, turning a page in her book. They were hanging out in Jem's room, since standing outside turned too cold to bear. She was sprawled out on his bed with _Great Expectations_ propped in her hands and some chocolate in the other. They have been both talking about everyone they live around, and the subject of Maia and Jordan came up.

"In all honesty," she sighed, "no. At least, not for much longer. Couples that go _that_ fast in their relationship don't usually stay together for a long period of time."

Jem, who was sitting on his windowsill, hummed in appreciation. "I agree: The slower the better." He picked up his violin leaning against the windowsill by his feet and idly played with the strings, tuning the wires.

Tessa glanced up from her book. "Do you play?"

He looked up at her curious expression and smiled. "Yeah, I like to write my own music. It helps clears my mind from daily struggles." Though his tone was light, Tessa could already tell the layering on his words, the double meaning hiding behind the shadows of speech. She glanced up at him worriedly, but he was smiling as if it didn't affect him as much it had affected her.

She wanted to desperately ask him what it's like, how he lives with the knowledge of cancer, but stopped herself. That was _extremely_ personal, something she herself wouldn't share to someone she met that day. So Tessa bit her tongue down, refusing those words to escape he lips. Instead, she chose to change the subject. "So, what do you think about the whole Clary and Johnathan incident?"

Though Tessa wasn't there in person, the rumors flew fast in the house, and she knew what had happened before the conversation even ended. It was crazy, the odds of two long-lost siblings finding each other unexpectedly in a jail-punishment center.

Jem shook his head. "I still can't believe that happened myself. At first I thought they were kidding, but you should've seen the look in their faces – as if there a ghost standing in front of them."

_I know,_ she thought, but didn't voice that out loud. Every detail was spilled towards her, even the little part about Johnathan's earlier comment towards Clary. That must've been mortifying to him, the thought of hitting on his little sister. "And I thought they could've been a cute couple," Tessa wrinkled her nose. "God, how disgusting that would have been, given the circumstances."

Jem grinned. "I thought Clary and Jace would look good together," he shrugged. "But I don't know, he seemed a little too interested in the blonde twins."

"Jace and Clary?" Tessa repeated doubtfully, rolling the thought in her head. "Hm, maybe. If he would stop hanging around Sebastian all the time, that would seem likely. I've seen the way Clary looks at Sebastian, and it isn't an expression of friendliness. I don't blame her; I hate Sebastian. Did you see the way he completely affronted Magnus and that blonde girl for being gay?"

Jem rolled his eyes. "Such acts are equal to the intelligence of a street rat."

"Agreed," said Tessa, turning another page in her book. "I don't know how I feel about Jessamine, either – she's almost an exact replica of Sebastian, except in girl version. Thoughts?"

Jem made a "mhm" sound, distracted. Tessa peaked at him over her book, and saw him absently cleaning the body of the violin with the sleeve of his shirt, the instrument resting on his lap. She smiled and bit her lip, returning back to the world of Pip. The thought of Jem being overprotective of his violin was quiet endearing.

They stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sound filling the room coming from Jem's off-tune humming. He paused. "Tessa?"

"Yes, Jem?"

"Do you think Alec is gay?"

Tessa paused, trying to remember an Alec, but no image formed in her mind. Who's Alec? The name sounded awfully familiar…

Then it clicked. "Oh! Isabelle's brother, right? Yeah, well – uh, I mean, if he were, I don't think he realizes it yet."

"That's what I mean," said Jem, carefully setting his violin back into the case. "I don't think he fully realizes it, either. It must be hard trying to confirm your sexuality when you know for certain you're not _just_ straight_,"_ Jem clicked the violin case closed and sat it besides himself on the windowsill. "I feel as though I'm entitled to help him out, though that's more of a personal problematic matter that he must figure out himself."

Tessa nodded, feeling the emotion behind his words. Though she only met Jem today, Tessa can tell he feels as though he is supposed to give back to the world for what he had done. Though there is nothing wrong with that, the initial drive to continuously do good can end him in trouble one day, and Tessa fears she won't be there to help him back up.

"I'm sure he'll figure it out," said Tessa, pulling out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. She glanced at the time, and did a double take – it was midnight. She and Jem had been talking for almost three hours. "Jem, is tomorrow our free day?"

"Yeah, I think so," he looked up from playing with the clasp on his case. "Why the sudden interest?"

Tessa shook her head. "Nothing, I just thought we had construction tomorrow." She displayed the time to Jem, and his eyes widened fractionally. "I would've been a zombie in the morning."

He nodded at the time. "The cutest zombie _I've _ever seen," muttered Jem; he blushed soon after, turning away from her.

Tessa smiled. She jumped up from the bed and quietly walked over to him. His back was turned from her, gazing fixedly outside. Tessa softly ran her hand up his arm; she felt his muscles jump under her touch. With the same softness, she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

"Tessa –"

"Sh." She interrupted, her face pressed against his lean back. Lightly, she pressed a kiss on his shoulder, her lips lingering. She felt him shiver.

He turned, and suddenly she was wrapped in his arms; startled, she looked up at him the same time he leaned down to kiss her. It was a brief, butterfly kiss, his lips brushing against hers, but it was enough to make her shiver. She wanted him, wanted him more than anything, but before she could take the kiss further, he pulled away, his face flushed.

"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly. "That was probably unexpected."

"I was pleasantly surprised," she responded breezily, her head light. The ghost of his lips lingers on hers, causing electric sparks.

Jem let go of her, and instantly Tessa wanted to be back wrapped up in his arms. "You should probably go," said Jem, though his happy expression took the sting away from his words. "It's late, and I don't want our relationship affected so early by a curfew regulation."

Tessa nodded, smiling up at him. Her heart felt like it was going to burst, swelling up to impossible sizes. Jem had kissed her, and she _liked it_. He said they had a relationship. Nothing could ruin her mood, not now, not ever again.

She left his room and quietly rushed to her own, excitement flooding her veins. Slipping into her own room, Tessa took one glance at the bed and felt a wave of sleepiness wash over her, her eyelids suddenly weighing a ton. She collapsed on her bed without taking off her shoes and fell asleep, dreaming about a certain silver-haired boy.

**A/N: JESSA! JESSA! JESSA! The reason for Jessa coming on quickly will later be seen. Don't worry, Wessa is coming up, just maybe not in the way you're expecting. Clace will be a little later, along with Sizzy and Emma/Julian. A _crap ton_ of Malec is about to erupt, so prepare yourselves. I'm sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes made in this chapter; I wrote this in a rush, as I have been avoiding homework.**

**Chapter four is almost done, and let me tell you, all this nice business going on in the house will shatter. Real drama will go down, I promise. And I'm so excited! I also added _very_ mild Sizzy, so mild you won't even notice it. But it's there, trust me. You'll have to squint a bit, but I promise it's there. **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four:

** A/N: ****It had been hard, trying to find out a point of view that would work the best. I was going to continue Tessa, but I really had nothing she would be concerned about, except, of course, Jem. They're happy at the moment, and happiness can get boring. I'll show glimpses of them being cute throughout the story. But today it is John's time to shine, and hopefully he doesn't bore you all too much.**

**I can't say this enough: thank you guys for the reviews! I really love reading them. **

Johnathan stared up at his ceiling silently, mulling over the probable reasons for Clary's possible existence. She had looked so familiar from when he first saw her on the bus, but didn't say anything. He had thought she was an ex of his, but she showed no recognition in her eyes when she looked over at him.

Valentine, his father, had always said Jocelyn, his mother, died after he was born. Valentine had never remarried, claiming his one true love would always be Jocelyn. Johnathan had always thought that was a bit depressing, clinging onto memories like that – now, he was wondering what could have happened that drove the two so far apart.

It was clear now why Clary looked so familiar: she was almost the exact copy of Jocelyn, as he was of Valentine. Johnathan stole one of the pictures of his mother from Valentine's room and kept in his pocket for years now, just in case he stumbled upon any possible women that had the potential of being his long-lost mother, but that moment never occurred.

Clary's the only source to his questions, and he suspects he's the only source to her questions.

An uneasy sleep found him unexpectedly, temporarily relieving him of his mind-numbing thoughts.

* * *

><p>"You swear you never even seen her before?"<p>

Johnathan sighed, clearly exasperated. "Yes, I swear."

"Insane," muttered Jace. "That shouldn't be possible."

Johnathan had dragged himself out of bed and stumbled down the stairs, looking for breakfast. Apparently, the cooks had been lazy with serving, as they put boxes of cereal and milk jugs on the dining room table. He wasn't the first one up; Jace, Magnus, Alec, Aline, and a girl whom he does not recognize were already sitting around the table, munching on the plain cereal. Jace had greeted him when he padded in, and pushed him a bowl of cereal.

Johnathan flung himself in the seat beside Jace and began to audibly munch on his cereal, earning him annoyed glances.

Magnus leaned over the table at Johnathan. "You might want to be careful," he said seriously. "I hear sisters are a pain."

"They are!" said Alec, irritated. "Just wait, Johnathan; soon you'll wish she were never born."

Johnathan shook his head. "You're different; Isabelle was born into your life. Clary kind of dove her way into mine."

Aline shot them both a furious glare. "There's nothing wrong with having a sister!"

Alec's reply was cut off as Isabelle sauntered in, already dressed for the day: a dress with impossibly high heels. "Good morning, lovelies," she sang, sitting next to the girl Johnathan didn't recognize. "Hello Emma," she hummed with affection. Isabelle looked down at their breakfast. "Cereal?" Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"It's called, 'fine dining.'" Jace spoke up, grinning over at her. Isabelle rolled her eyes and poured some cereal in a bowl.

Magnus glanced back at Johnathan. "Honestly, Johnny," he sighed, "you just need to talk to her. Maybe you both have something in common."

"Ooh!" Isabelle exclaimed, her gaze whipping towards Johnathan. "Do I hear girl advice?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "We're talking about Clary, Isabelle."

She looked back at Johnathan with renewed interest. "Oh, that's right – you're her _big brother_," she grinned. "Honestly, I _love_ Clary, but she's a little too kind. Kind of boring, really, but that shouldn't be a problem for you."

"Clary, kind? What kind of universe am I in?"

Everyone whipped their heads towards the doorway, and saw Simon Lewis. He had his hands jammed in his pockets as he walked over to the table, plopping himself down in a random seat. Johnathan had seen him with Clary on the bus, and she seemed okay with him. So Johnathan will be okay with him, too.

Simon looked over at Isabelle. "She's kind to you because you're a stranger to her. But when you become close to her – well, let's just say she isn't that innocent." He grinned, pouring himself some cereal. Something flashing behind Isabelle's eyes – jealousy, maybe?

Johnathan felt irritation scrape the inside of his chest when he registered Simon's words. "What do you mean, 'not that innocent'?"

Simon glanced at him. "Why do you care?"

"Because _I'm_ her _brother_," he snarled. "And I would like to know if _my little sister_ is into prostitution."

Simon choked on his cereal. "You're her brother?" He asked, startled. Johnathan sarcastically nodded his head. Simon swallowed a mouthful of cereal. "She never mentioned having a brother to me."

"That's because she found out just yesterday," said Jace, leaning back in his chair. "Now answer the question."

Alec looked over at Jace. "Why are _you_ suddenly interested?"

Something flashed in Jace's eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. "Just curious," was all he said.

Simon shook his head impatiently. "No, Clary isn't into prostitution. I wouldn't be surprised if she is still a virgin; the girl sucks at relationships."

"Maybe it's her fashion choice," muttered Isabelle. "Maybe it's her red hair." She glanced at Jace. "Red hair is a turn-off for guys, right?"

Before Jace could have a chance to answer, Simon cut in angrily. "No, it's not that. It's not her; it's her ex, Raphael. He didn't just break her heart, he _destroyed_ it. She caught him cheating on her on their one year anniversary. His reason? 'I need a variety'," He gripped his spoon angrily. "I was left to pick up the pieces. She was a mess for days."

Johnathan felt anger bubble up in him. What gave Raphael the right to hurt his little sister like that? His anger shocked him. Was he already feeling a brotherly affection towards someone he didn't really even know?

"Wait," said Alec curiously. He was staring at Simon with interest. "You know Clary personally?"

Johnathan perked up at that. "Of course," said Simon breezily. "I'm her best friend."

"Whose best friend?" said James as he and Tessa walked in together, hands interlinked. They sat next to each other at the table, James sitting next to Magnus.

Magnus cocked an eyebrow. "So I take you two are together?"

Tessa blushed as James nodded, smiling down at her.

"To answer your question," said Jace, "Simon is Clary's best friend." Once again, a spark ignited behind his golden eyes, but it died down quickly, leaving him irritatingly emotionless. Johnathan stared at Jace curiously. Was he _jealous_?

Tessa perked up at Clary's name. "Oh, I adore Clary. She seemed so interested of my life in London."

"That's because," piped up Simon, "we both wanted to backpack across Europe after college."

Johnathan then looked over at Simon. He seemed very smug about being Clary's best friend, a little more than normal. Does _he_ like Clary, too? He shook his head, knowing he was going to have to give her a brotherly talk about boys.

Helen walked in then, smiling over at Aline and Emma, who were sitting side-by-side. "Good morning, Emma," she smiled, "how was your night?" Helen sat in the seat across from Emma, reaching for one of the stacked bowls and the box of cereal.

Emma swallowed a mouth full of cereal. "It was alright."

Aline smiled over at Helen. "My night was great, too." A gleam ignited in both girls' eyes, giving each other a knowing look. Magnus grinned, getting their gesture.

Johnathan looked away from the girls to hear Alec and Jace's conversation: "…girls," Alec was saying. "Most of them seem to be bitchy, the rest slutty."

Jace nodded in agreement. "I know, I was just thinking that. Do you think I'd have more luck going for Sophie?"

Alec shot him a look as Jace began to smile. "Not funny, dude."

"Who's Sophie?" Asked Johnathan, cutting into their conversation.

"She's the quiet girl with the scar on her face," answered Jace, playing with a few pieces of soggy cereal in his milk. "Apparently, she was abused by her drunk boyfriend, and he cut open her face with his beer bottle. She fought back, and knocked him out. He sued her and she lost the case, his claim being, 'she intoxicated me without consent'," Jace shook his head. "Let's just say, she isn't into any relationships at the moment."

"Alec's right; your joke _isn't_ funny," said Johnathan, though he grinned despite herself. "How do you know all this?"

Jace shrugged nonchalantly, appearing to be lost in thought. "I have connections."

"Do your so-called connections reach what happened with my sister, and why she's a criminal?" he asked, his voice clipped.

Jace snapped his attention up at him. "No," he said, "but I know someone who may know." He jerked his chin towards Simon, who was deep in conversation with Isabelle.

"…I mean, sure, she walked over my heart as if it were a 'welcome' mat, but I don't let that get to me," Simon was saying, twirling the milk in his bowl with the end of his spoon. "But she's still my best friend, and we don't let it get in between our relationship."

_Were they talking about Clary?_ "Simon," Johnathan interrupted, "do you know why Clary is here?"

Simon stopped talking immediately after hearing Clary's name. "You mean here, as in a physiological sense? Because if that's the case, I have a few theories –"

"No, you idiot," Johnathan blew out a frustrated breath. "I meant why she's here, in this house…"

"Oh," said Simon, uninterested. He tipped his head to the side, obviously contemplating. "I don't know." He went back into conversation with Isabelle, indifferent to Johnathan.

Johnathan resisted the urge to scream.

Sebastian and Will walked in, both looking smug. "'Morning, gents," said Will, plopping himself beside Johnathan, Sebastian sitting himself by Will. "And ladies," he added, looking from Isabelle, Tessa, Aline, Helen, and Emma with apprehension.

"What are you so smug about?" asked Isabelle, eyeing them both.

Sebastian winked at her, but both boys did not answer.

Trailed after them came in Kaelie and Seelie, who both wore lacy shirts and high-waist, leather-black shorts. They giggled and blush when they caught the sight of Will and Sebastian, and they sat together at the end of the table, talking in hushed voices.

Tessa looked at them in abhorrence. "You're disgusting," she said towards Will and Sebastian, wrinkling her nose.

Kaelie and Seelie looked over at her with equal emotions in their expressions. "At least we can get laid," Kaelie sneered, "while you're going for silver-locks over there."

Seelie snorted and smirked down at her.

Tessa rolled her eyes. "At least I can keep a guy," she said, "while you're over there accepting whatever boy is perverted enough to have sex with you." She turned her steely glare towards Will and Sebastian.

Kaelie scoffed as Seelie made a noise of murder. Will didn't look affected, while Sebastian jeered, "Oh, we're perverted, are we? Last I remember, I saw you sneak out of James's room at midnight!" He shook his head, grinning. "You didn't even stay with him until morning."

Will perked up at that, shooting James a questioning and suspicious look. Everyone else around the table, Johnathan included, turned their gazes over at them, curious about the yelling.

Tessa's eyes widened dangerously. "Believe it or not," she whispered deadly, shrugging off James's attempt to keep her quiet, "I can go a few hours alone with a boy and _not_ want his dick in me."

Johnathan whistled under his breath, feeling that blow. Sebastian reeled back as the girls blanched, but yet Will remained just as impassive, apparently not listening. His attention was set on James fixedly.

"James," said Will, "can we speak for a moment? Alone?" He added, noting Tessa's change of expression. James looked over at Will curiously but obliged, standing up from his chair. He and Will left the dining room, leaving everyone quiet.

In their wake came in the focal point of most peoples' conversations: Clary. She had her bright red hair tied in a loose braid, wearing grey sweatpants and a white, thermal shirt. The room became three times as tense, nearly suffocating Johnathan. She didn't seem notice everyone's eyes on her as she sat down beside Simon, reaching for the cereal box. "Really?" she asked to no one in particular, probably mostly to Simon. "Regular cheerios? Are we on some sort of budget cut?"

Simon snorted in response, taking another spoonful of his food.

Johnathan cleared his throat, and Clary's eyes snapped up towards him. Green on green, they studied each other for a moment again. Clary, with her pail skin, matching his. Clary, with her wide, green eyes, identical to his own. Clary, who was his sister, who had the same parents. Clary, Clary, _Clary_, his mind spun on her name. Clary was his sister; was family.

"Can we talk, little sis?" Asked Johnathan carefully, Magnus's words ringing in his mind. _You might want to be careful. _"Maybe somewhere more private?"

She nodded, pushing her cereal away from her. They both stood up and left the dining room, and, Johnathan being in front of her, lead her into the living room. The room looked clean as ever, showing no signs of a gathering the night before. He sat down on one of the white couches, Clary sitting on the couch opposite him. They briefly studied each other again, as if making sure this were real.

"So," said Clary, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them. "You needed to talk?"

"You're my sister," blurted Johnathan. He mentally cursed himself. _Smooth. _He cleared his throat.

Clary nodded. "That would be the case, yes."

He shot her a look. "How is it possible?" He demanded, leaning forward. "Valentine said Jocelyn was dead."

"And Jocelyn said Valentine was dead," said Clary. "We went over this."

"How are you so calm?" He asked, almost pleading. At that moment, he realized something: he wanted a sister, wanted one more than anything. "You just found out about your sibling, and you're so calm about it – how?"

She rolled her eyes and tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture he had noticed about her from last night. "I'm not calm," she replied crisply. "Do I know how we're siblings? No. Do I know for certain that we are? _No. _Why freak out over something that may or may not be true?_" _

"You can't be serious," Johnathan gestured to himself. "We have the same eyes, the same skin tone –" He squinted at her. "And it looks like we have the same nose."

Clary subconsciously touched her button nose. "Okay, so we have similarity on our side…" she shook her head. "This is insane. Valentine is dead, Jocelyn showed me funeral photos –"

"It is insane?" asked Johnathan, cutting her off. "Is it?"

Clary paused at this, clutching one of the decoration pillows. "I just don't see how this is logical!" She cried out, her grip on the pillow tightening. "Why would our parents lie to us? Why?" She looked back up at him, and with a jolt he realized she was trying to not cry. "It doesn't add up."

"Honestly, I don't know," said Johnathan, raking a hand through his wispy, blonde hair. "Maybe they divorced, and since we look so much like a single parent, they separated us." He groaned out of exasperation. "But why separate us?"

"Sorry for interrupting –" They both whipped up towards the marble staircase. Cecily Herondale, Will's sister, was descending down, looking a bit awkward. She was also fully dressed, wearing a black halter top and dark jeans, her hair perfectly fixed and makeup bringing out the sparkle her eyes. Noting their silence, she said a bit sheepishly, "I'm heading to breakfast. Continue your conversation," and scrambled towards the dining room.

Through the doors of the dining room, he could see curious expressions fixed on them, watching them. He saw Simon glancing back at the opened door, holding his gaze at Clary before turning back to Isabelle. He saw Jace, Will, and Sebastian, all grinning over at him like idiots. Across the table Seelie and Kaelie were looking at the trio of boys with a burning longing and lust, an expression so raw Johnathan quickly glanced away.

"…Maybe, but I'm not so sure," Johnathan tuned back in to Clary's voice like an old radio to a station after being held in static. He slowly turned away from the already closed dining room door and looked at Clary. She was staring at him, glaring defiantly. "Were you even listening?"

He felt sheepish. "Er, no."

"Unbelievable." Clary huffed in exasperation, raking a hand through her knotty, red curls loose from her braid. Johnathan watched her for a moment, mesmerized. The girl sitting in front of him was once considered beautiful in his book, but now all he could see was his sister. He thought the feeling in his gut was lust when he first looked at her, but in closer examination he realized it was a feeling of protectiveness.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Lost in thought…" He looked at her keenly, a thought leaping into his head. "Why are you here?"

Clary jumped, startled. "I thought we were discussing the possibilities of being siblings, not discussing why we were sent here."

Johnathan stared at her. "We were," he said, "but now we're on something else."

She glared at him. "It's none of your business, brother or not –"

"It's all of my business."

She groaned in frustration, her pale face pulling into a scowl. "Oh my _God_, John, does it _matter_–"

"John?" he mused. "That's new. Usually I'm called 'Johnny' or simply 'Big J' for purposes I hope you never find out about."

"Ew." She scrunched up her nose. "Too much info."

"Technically, you brought it up."

"Technically, I only called you 'John'."

"Well, technically –"

"_Johnathan_!" He looked up at her. Clary held her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. "My _god_, you are annoying."

He grinned over at her. "It's part of the job."

"Job of what?" She dropped her hands and glared at him, her green eyes brimmed with annoyance. "Job of being a douche? Because you're doing fan-_tastic_." The way she had said that, the way her sarcasm wasn't laced with mockery and was instead dipped in seriousness, the way she held a steady glare towards him, awoken an alarm in him.

His grinned dropped. "Clary –"

Suddenly, the doors of the dining room burst open, revealing Sebastian, Alec, and Jace. They were all laughing and grinning, shoving each other around. Without realizing it, he and Clary had both risen from the couch.

Sebastian glance at their direction and grinned, halting his walk. "Did we interrupt an important sibling bonding moment?" Jace and Alec stopped with him, looking over. "Please, continue if you must."

"Johnathan," said Jace, shooting Sebastian a look, "we're heading out to look for Will and James, and then we'll search this _place_." The way he had said 'place' was filled with revulsion and disgust; Johnathan resisted the urge to grin. Shaking out his blonde hair, Jace asked, "Do you want to join?"

Johnathan looked back at Clary worriedly. She bit her lip, and they both knew the moment was over. He offered a small smile down at her. "Are you heading back to breakfast?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm starving."

He nodded, She was about to leave when he caught her arm, almost out of reflex. "Wait," Johnathan said, earning him a worried look from Clary. He glanced back at the three boys looking at them curiously.

"Everything okay, John?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Be careful," he whispered, his voice loud enough for only her to hear. "If you fall in love with one of my friends, be careful; they're heart breakers, all of them."

Clary was visibly bewildered. "Why –"

"Simon told me," he interrupted, watching her eyes widen. "About your last relationship. These guys, they're like Raphael. Trust me."

The affect was immediate. Clary scowled, ripping her arm out of his grasp. _What did I say? _Johnathan thought. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks," she retorted icily.

Johnathan narrowed his eyes. "Why are you suddenly mad at me? I'm trying to help –"

"I don't need your help," she replied harshly, "especially with relationships. I can handle myself."

Before he could respond back, she stormed back into the dining room. He shook his head. _Alec was right, _he thought, _sisters really are a pain. _

Someone cleared their throat behind him. He whirled, and saw his friends standing around, hands shoved awkwardly in their pockets. Johnathan felt a brief buzz of embarrassment; he had forgotten they were there.

"So," said Alec after a moment's pause. "You still up for the search?"

Johnathan shrugged, his thoughts filled with Clary. _I need to stop thinking about her, _he thought, _to stop worrying. _"Sure."

* * *

><p>"Okay, so this place has a library, an infirmary, a kitchen… but <em>no gyms<em>?"

"I know," said Jace, lying on his back. "Whoever remodeled this place has _got_ to get a few priorities straightened."

Johnathan glanced at him wearily. Jace was laying on the ledge of the rooftop, inches away from definite death. Sometimes Johnathan wondered if Jace even had fears, had feelings – he was about as emotional as his comb – Will included. Both of the Herondale boys seem so indifferent to the world, as if their expression is permanently stuck on "poker-face." They look as though they're contemplating life's greatest wonders, and their theories aren't appealing.

They had explored the house (part of it, actually) and found an entrance to one of the rooftops. The roof top was relatively small; barely the size of a small bedroom, a few old beer bottles smashed here and there, a dead bird stuffed in the corner. A four foot stone wall barricaded the perimeter, the surrounding rooftops coming up at a point around them. The view of Canada materialized around them, a view of freshly laid snow stretched into the distance, bringing in no wind.

Johnathan propped himself against one of the stone barricades, the cold seeping into the back of his head. He had his arms wrapped around his drawn-up knees, trying to contain any warmth.

Sebastian snorted at Jace's response, his legs sprawled out in front of him on the cold, stone floor.

Alec glanced worriedly at Jace. "Jace, don't you think –"

"No." Finished Jace. He looked up at Alec with faint amusement. "I don't think, but I do act."

"And you wonder why you're branded as 'reckless,'" Alec responded, sighing. He was leaning against one of the stone walls separating the boys from the fall, his arms crossed. "No, seriously – do you think James and Will are going to be alright?"

Will and James had apparently been in the library, engrossed into a heated discussion. When they had found them, Will cut off whatever he was saying immediately and half-dragged James out of the room, probably to finish their conversation elsewhere. It had shaken up the group of boys; they had never been known to fight. James and Will were almost closer than brothers, as if an invisible force bonded them together, like magic.

Jace sighed, raking a hand through his wind-blown hair. "In all honesty," he said as he lied back down on the stone ledge. "Yes. I've seen them do this once or twice, and they've always come out the other end closer than they have ever been before."

Sebastian picked at his nails, uninterested. "My biggest fear," he said, "is when you all are going to fall for one of these girls here. Like angels casted down." Dropping his hand, he glanced up, noting everyone's curious glances. He made an impatient noise. "Come on – it's not so hard to grasp the concept of one of these girls grabbing your heart and crushing it."

Jace flexed his hand repulsively. "I wouldn't worry too much about me," he muttered. "I'm about as soft as a blade." Johnathan saw a glimpse of emotion behind the boy's pale golden eyes, but it flicked off quickly, too fast to confirm his suspicions. "No girl is going to change that." And somehow, Johnathan believed him.

"And me," added Alec. "I mean, no one has to worry about me."

Johnathan looked over curiously. "What makes you so sure?"

He flushed, obviously uncomfortable. "I just know a _girl_ isn't going to hurt me."

Sebastian turned towards Alec, curiosity written in his eyes. "What do you mean by _that_?"

"I'm gay." He blurted, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. Jace moved off the ledge and landed on his feet so fast his movements were a blur. Sebastian scrambled to his feet and backed away from Alec as if he were covered in a disease, hitting against the opposite stone barrier. Johnathan remained where he was, shocked to the core.

Alec, _gay_?

An appalled silence broke between the boys. Then, finally: "Alec, I thought you agreed to not share that until later."

Sebastian and Johnathan looked at Jace curiously. So Alec had told him before he told the rest?

Alec made a disgruntled noise, ruffling out his hair. "The time seemed right."

Johnathan stepped forward, his initial shock dissolving. "I'm glad you told us, Alec –"

"You're _gay?"_ Sebastian exclaimed, his lip curling. "As in, you're homo?"

Alec blanched. "Well, yeah, but –"

"Disgusting," Sebastian interrupted, "your lot." He glanced at Jace. "And you knew, too? And still stuck with him? I'm surprised you're not coming out along with him."

Another wave of shock washed over Johnathan. He stared at Sebastian, unbelieving someone _smiling _could say these things.

Jace's face tightened. "You don't mean those things, Sebastian –"

"But yet, I do." He stared directly at Alec. "You're disgusting, you know that? You're unnatural, your kind is, can't even reproduce –"

"Hey." Johnathan interrupted, fury licking the insides of his gut. "I'd shut up if I were you."

He looked up lazily at Johnathan. "And why's that?"

Jace answered instead. "Unless you want the crap beaten out of you, of course." Johnathan glanced at him; Jace was tense all over, flexing his hands, visibly _furious_, the first emotion he had shed since arriving.

Sebastian's face darkened as someone threw open the door – Will. And behind him, James.

They both paused as the door closed behind them. "What," said Will, "has happened?" He glanced at everyone, taking in different expressions of fury, disgust, shame, and shock. James said nothing, but only cocked a silvery eyebrow.

"Sebastian," said Jace who, seemingly ignoring Will's question, was glaring viciously at the other blonde boy. "Take it back."

Sebastian glared back. "Why take back the truth?" He grinned maliciously.

Jace's mouth thinned. "Never, _ever_" – he emphasized heavily on the word 'ever' – "consider us friends. Not anymore."

He flung open the door, revealing an iron staircase. Looking back, he said, "The only real disgusting one here is _you_." And slammed the door behind him. Soon after, Alec followed, slamming the door with equal amount of force.

Will and James looked astonished. Johnathan, not really wanting to be in the middle of this, left without another word quietly, softly closing the door behind him. He couldn't see Jace nor Alec on the staircase; they're probably long gone by now. He bounded down the stairs and headed back into the dining room, hoping to see if he hadn't missed lunch – but he did. The dining room was cleared out, a few crumbs left on the table indicating to a meal missed.

He sighed, leaning against the door frame, thinking of Sebastian's words, Jace's reaction, Alec's confession, and, most of all, his long-lost sister.

Since when has his life become so complicated?

**A/N: Another chapter done *bang bang* The next chapter isn't written out yet, but I might just jump right into Monday, their first Construction day. And that might be in Johnathan's point of view, because I love Johnathan. This, too, was written in such a rush there is a huge chance of grammar and spelling mistakes. If there is, do not stare at it too long – I'm ashamed enough. **

**Alec came out! Malec will begin! In the last chapter, I said there will be a lot of Malec, but I removed most of those scenes. I also erased a fist fight, seeing it was pointless. Also, I've deleted Johnathan and Jessamine talking, maybe becoming a future couple… but that doesn't seem right. **

**I don't know when I'll post again. My schedule has been really busy lately, and I've resulted in sleeping at midnight and waking up at four. Every. Day. So that's why I've posted this so early in the morning. Well, early in my time zone.**

**Alright, I really got to sleep. See you next time!**

**~MJ**

**P.S, I love your reviews. Every time I see I got a new one, I get really happy. And being happy is good. **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

**A/N: I'm so sorry! I haven't updated in a really long time. I was busy with honor classes and family struggles, and yes, this is my pathetic excuse to not update. But it's the pathetic truth. I have been working on this chapter over a consecutive two weeks. I even canceled my plans with friends just to finish this chapter in the little free time I had. But that's okay, at least I have another chapter up. I don't even want to know how long it has been since the last chapter was updated. What chapter is this, anyway – chapter five? Ouch, I'm behind schedule. Better get to work! (: **

***I made this chapter longer for the wait.**

***I realized "Johnathan" is really "Jonathan." My mistake has been corrected after rereading City of Glass. Do not worry; for now on Clary's brother is Jonathan. **

**All characters belong to ****CASSANDRA CLARE****, the queen. **

Morning came sooner than expected.

It was as if the workers in the house were almost glad they were departing for an entire day; the maids cleaned the house until not a speck of dust was in sight, reflections being seen on the wooden flooring; the chefs cooked an amazingly delicious breakfast, consisting of eggs, bacon, biscuits, pancakes, waffles, syrups, sausages, fruits, oatmeal, etc.; and last but not least, the _bus driver_ was humming around the house, occasionally smiling creepily at a few people passing by.

It was certainly something that would take Simon a while to get used to.

He sat in the living room alone, a book propped open and forgotten in his lap. He had the book as more of a comfort token than anything he could pay attention to; his nerves were flying everywhere, causing his mind to wander and vision to blur together. He had barely enough sleep last night, as he was constantly thinking of his current life. Questions as, "why am I here?" and "were my actions really worth it?" crossed his mind continuously, violating his attempt in self-peace.

He didn't really know why he had hacked his favorite game. He didn't even know how it turned out to be completely illegal, the government fining he and his family thousands. It doesn't add up; the terms and agreements said only about copying the game, not hacking and possibly disfiguring it in the process. Sure, his character in the game was an all-powerful celestial being who could steal paid-memberships' earnings digitally, but he never knew that was _illegal._

If anything, that was pure comedy gold.

Judge Imogen certainly didn't think so.

Neither did his parents. In fact, it seems as though only he found it hilarious. And Clary, of course. Once he told her, she couldn't stop laughing.

"And here I thought," She had said, "you were thrown in here for getting in some kind of fight. But _no_, you are now in a redemption center purely because you _hacked_ a _video game_. Priceless," she added with a deep breath of air, "that."

Simon hadn't thought of it like that; he grinned along with her, despite being the one made fun of. "I know," he had said. "Ridiculous of you to think I am anything but a die-hard gamer. Literally."

She shook her head, smiling. "Imagine you in jail. 'Hey, new guys: what are you in here for?' 'Murder.' 'Vandalism.' 'Drugs.' And then there's you: 'hacking a game'." Clary chuckled. "You wouldn't be able to survive the first hour."

"I could," Simon had said. "If I lie."

Clary had snorted. "Yeah, because _that_ would do you justice."

"What justice? I'm already in jail, worrying about dropping soap."

And Simon and Clary remained like that, playfully insulting each other back and forth.

He recalled it then, remembering how at peace he had felt, despite their conversation of him in jail. He hadn't felt that happy since last seeing Clary, and at that moment, he had realized just how much he had actually missed her. It was like a twenty pound weight was lifted off his shoulders, and that weight consisted of the memory of Clary, and knowing he would never see her again.

"Simon?"

He looked up. As if his mere memory had materialized her, Clary loomed over him, looking down at the book he had in his lap with a frown. His pulse jumped with the sight of her – her red hair was tied in a loose braid, her outfit consisting of dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt. A bit of mascara was smudged under her green eyes, making them appear startlingly striking against her pale skin.

She looked – and dare he say it – beautiful. Not that she would ever like him.

"Simon," she repeated, "what are you doing? Why aren't you at breakfast?" Clary paused, her tone fractionally softer. "Isabelle was wondering where you were, she asked me–"

"I already ate." He cut her off, a slight feeling of regret uncurling in his stomach. Simon didn't know what he was doing with Isabelle. Was he using her to blot out the image of Clary, seemingly burned in his mind? Was he actually interested? Was _she_ actually interested? He didn't know, and the more time he spent with Isabelle, the more they became attached – romantically or as a friendship, Simon didn't know.

Clary raised her eyebrows, but didn't speak of the matter again. "What book is that?" She asked instead, pointing to the object in his hands.

He looked down. Closing the book, he displayed the title: _The Shadowhunter's Codex. _

Clary's eyebrows rose higher. "Shadowhunter?" she echoed. "Isn't that a story in the bible?"

Simon nodded. "Yes, but in the bible, they're called Nephilim." He stood up from the couch and handed her the book. She took it out of his grasp and turned to the first page, frowning lightly. Simon continued, "They say the Nephilim were the most elite warriors to have ever existed, being a race of half-angel and half-human."

Clary looked up curiously, closing the book. "Half angel?"

Simon nodded again, suddenly feeling sheepish. "Yeah, they – the Nephilim – killed off demons."

"Demons," she echoed, amused. Her green eyes stared wistfully at him. "Who knew you were the biblical expert. Next time I need to be baptized, I'll let you know."

"Very funny," He rolled his eyes. "You know I'm Jewish – no baptism for me."

"And _you_ know I'm only kidding." she replied with a chuckle. Clary glanced at the large clock on the wall behind him, her brows furrowed. "It's six in the morning," she muttered, mostly to herself. "Aren't we supposed to be leaving by now?"

Simon watched her for a moment, appreciating the way her mouth parted slightly, her green eyes bright and wide open, and her red hair escaping her braid, framing her delicately pale face. His mouth was dry; he swallowed and looked away from her. "Leaving where?"

She looked back at him, a small smile playing on her full, pink lips. "To Idris, duh. Today's Reconstruction Day." She paused, looking at him closer. "Are you high or something?"

"_What_?" His attention snapped towards her.

She flushed. "Nothing," she said hastily, "I just thought–"

"Clary?"

He and Clary whirled around to see Jonathan, Will, and James standing behind them, all wearing dark clothes. Jonathan's hair stood out startlingly against the blackness of his shirt, in comparison to Will's dark hair and James's silver hair. He approached Clary as if trying not to scare an animal away.

Simon had never wanted to kill three people more in his life.

"Jon!" exclaimed Clary, startled. She looked from him to his friends standing behind him, confusion written plainly on her face. "Hey – uh, what's up?"

He looked from her to Simon, his expression calculating. His gaze moved back to Clary and stared at her seriously. "Are you alright?"

Simon felt Clary tense beside him. "I'm fine," She replied crisply. Simon looked at her confused. Why was she suddenly mad at him? Her tone became several degrees colder, just like that. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, appearing to sense her change in mood. "It's just – well, you're needed. Back at breakfast."

Clary, bewildered, asked, "Can I ask _why_?"

James spoke up, cutting off Jonathan's reply. "Tessa needs to speak with you," he said softly, his words like silk. "And it's nothing good."

Simon felt more confused than his expression is letting on. What happened at breakfast? Why is Clary needed? Who's this Tessa, and why does this person need to tell Clary 'nothing good'? What –

Before he could even think or react, Clary stepped forward, sighing. "Alright, just make it quick." Simon caught at her arm without thinking; she whirled around to meet his worried gaze, and smiled. "I'll be fine, Simon." she said, softly detaching her arm from his grasp. With a final, cold look at Jonathan, she headed back into the dining room, Will and James trailing after her.

Simon was going to follow, when Jonathan stopped him from continuing. He stood in front of him, watching his sister disappear into the dining room, Will and James following. After the dining room door swung closed, he slowly turned back to Simon. "Hello, Simon," he drawled, a spark igniting behind his green eyes, the same shade that so matched his sister's. "We're going to have a small discussion; is that alright with you?"

Simon narrowed his eyes. "Do I have much of a choice?"

Just then, Will came back out of the dining room, nodding his head in Jonathan's direction. Jonathan seemed pleased; he turned back towards Simon with a cold grin displayed on his lips. "No," he said softly. "No, I don't suppose you do."

* * *

><p>When Clary walked in the dining room, Tessa, who looked elegant with her beautiful eye makeup and pinned-up hair, quickly waved her over. Clary turned around to see Will and James behind her; Will patted James on the shoulder and went back out in the living room, while James slunk against the dining room wall. He didn't say anything, but she could tell he was watching her.<p>

Puzzled, Clary sat down next to Tessa, curiosity winning over her actions. No one else seemed to be paying attention to them; Isabelle had merely glanced over at them, her eyebrows drawn, but didn't say anything.

Tessa turned to her. "Hello, Clary," she said with a small smile. "We meet again."

"So we do." Clary pushed her red hair behind her ears, feeling unwelcome nerves flutter in her stomach. She and Tessa had shared a few words, but they weren't closely acquainted. What's going on? Was she being inducted into some sort of gang?

Tessa took a sip of her water out of a wine glass, making her appear to be much older than she actually is. She licked her wetted lips. "I bet you're wondering what this 'summing' – I guess you can call it – is for, am I not correct?"

Clary nodded. Tessa sat her wine glass down, looking at Clary keenly with her stormy gray eyes. She studied Clary for a moment. Finally, she spoke. "Have you not heard of the delay for Reconstruction Day today?"

Clary shook her head in surprise, not trusting herself to speak.

Tessa nodded. "Oh, well really it's not that big of a deal," she said, lifting her shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Ice on the road delayed the bus assigned to pick us up."

Clary interrupted. "How do you know this?"

Tessa gave her a small smile. "I'm dating James Carstairs – he's friends with people who are very informed in this household."

"Informed friends?" Clary asked, interested. "Like who?"

"It doesn't matter, Clary."

"But–"

"_Clary_," Tessa looked at her with faint amusement. She shook her head, as if clearing her thoughts. "I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. His friends – well, I can tell they don't trust me much. So sharing who they are will really push me over the edge, in their eyes," Her grey eyes darkened, and her voice sunk to a whisper. Clary had to lean in to hear her words. "We're not supposed to know anyone in here. But his friends do, and said person has information on all of us."

Clary leaned back in shock. "On _all_ of us?" she asked, startled. "You mean –"

"Yes," Tessa suddenly sounded tired; Clary glanced up at her in surprise. She had dark crescents under her eyes, and her shoulders sagged a little. Though her appearance is tired, her grey eyes remained sharp and intimidating. "That's what I needed to talk to you about, actually."

"Really?" Clary couldn't help but feel surprised. Why her, out of everyone else?

"Really." Tessa played with some of her dark hair, loose from her swirled hairstyle. "Clary, I don't know if you understand this yet, but your brother is powerful here."

"Jon, powerful?" Clary's mind was reeling. "I don't understand–"

"Nor should you." Tessa clipped up some of the hair framing her face in her hairstyle. "I don't know much about him, but I know a few things. For one, he comes from a very… _knowledgeable_ family, I guess you can say. And, just like James, he's friends with certain people here. People with information, as I said before."

"The same people?"

"Yes." Tessa, finished with her hairstyle, sipped some more of her drink. Clary had guessed it was water before, but now she wasn't so sure. Tessa sat the glass down, swallowing. She looked at Clary seriously. "I'm surprised you hadn't guessed who they are yet."

_She can't tell me who they are, _thought Clary, _but I can guess them on my own accord. Clever. _She paused for a moment, thinking. Who is friends with both Jonathan and James, and are related in some way? The Lightwoods? _No_, she thought. She had never really seen the Lightwoods with James and Jonathan in the same group before. Then suddenly, the pieces clicked together.

"The Herondales," she whispered, staring at Tessa.

Tessa trailed a finger on the brim of her wine glass, but did not answer.

"That's who they are, aren't they?" Clary demanded. "The Herondales –"

"Shh!" Tessa interrupted her, looking at everyone across the table. No one appeared to be listening. Clary, her eyebrows raised, cut off whatever words she was going to speak as she looked at Tessa. Her expression had never been so serious.

Tessa sighed. "Yes," she said with a finality that made Clary herself feel tired, even though she had only been awake for an hour. "But no one can know, _ever_."

"Why not?"

"Because," she said equably, her words careful. "They can be reported back to Jia, and then they will be thrown in jail. And then the person they are closely friends with will be thrown in jail. And they don't deserve that."

Clary nodded, but then shook her head. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked finally. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Oh, Clary," she said sadly. "This has everything to do with you."

"I think you're mistaken–"

"Jonathan is your brother, is he not?" She cut in, interrupting whatever Clary was going to say. Clary nodded. Tessa opened her hands. "Jonathan, just like James, is friends with the same people. They're all close, and some – well, _enemies _knows of this. Some people in the house are aware of the Herondales knowing more than they are letting on. That is dangerous, _very_ dangerous."

Clary was about to interrupt, but Tessa held up a hand. "Let me finish," she said. "These enemies are powerful as well. This 'meeting' is coming as a warning."

Tessa glanced back at everyone surrounding them around the oak table, who were talking amongst themselves. When she turned back to Clary, her mouth was pressed in a firm line. Tessa's gray eyes bore drills into Clary's. Her words were terse, serious. "Careful who you befriend, Clary," she said, leaning in close. Chills spiked down Clary's spine. "In this house, trust _no one_."

* * *

><p>"Come along, Simon," said Jonathan, gesturing to the couches. Will joined his side. "I need to talk to you."<p>

Simon's narrowed eyes turned to slits. "This is about Clary, isn't it?"

Jonathan's heart sped up at the mention of his sister's name, but he didn't say anything as he and Will sank down side-by-side on one of the leather couches. He impatiently flicked his wrist for Simon to sit down. Finally, Simon obliged. He sank down in the opposite couch, leaning in close.

Jonathan casted a quick glance at Will before continuing. His hard, blue eyes were firmly watching Simon, his mouth set in a grim line. This has to be cleared, one way or another. Someone – his sister, most likely – could get hurt; Jonathan was willing to do everything in his power to make sure that never happens. With a sigh he turned back to Simon.

"Simon," he said. "How much do you know about the people in this house?"

Simon was clearly caught off guard. "What?"

Will rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb."

"I'm not," snapped Simon. "Playing dumb, I mean." He glared at them both. "What is this, anyway? An induction into a gang? A questionnaire for a million dollar prize? Role-play for a crime show?"

"Simon," said Jonathan. "Shut up."

Simon's mouth snapped shut, his expression irritated.

"Look," said Will, hands clasped tightly together. "Just answer the question."

"Not much," snapped Simon. "I only knew Clary before coming here, and I apparently didn't know much about her to begin with." He shot a look at Jonathan, whose mouth thinned.

"Only Clary." Jonathan repeated.

"Yes," he said, starting to rise. "Now, if you will excuse me…"

"That's not all, Simon," Will said forcefully, indicating to sit back down. "Sit."

Simon, rolling his eyes, sat back down in the leather couch. "What now?"

"Who do you consider your friends here, in this house?" Will asked seriously.

Simon burst out laughing. "Oh my _God_," he said. "You _are_ role-playing for a crime TV show!"

Jonathan resisted the urge to punch him in the face, knowing Clary wouldn't forgive him easily for it. "Answer the question, if not for your own safety."

Simon immediately stopped laughing. His eyes narrowed. "Are you _threatening_ me?" he asked incredulously.

"Depending on the answer," said Will, "yes."

He stared at them for a moment. Before Simon could answer, a piercing noise issued from the foyer in the house, echoing in the living room.

He looked at Will in alarm. He mouthed, _The bus is here. _

Jonathan cursed audibly. He turned back to Simon, who was curiously looking around. People filed out from the dining room and from the top of the staircase, drawn to the noise. Jonathan quickly scanned the people leaving the dining room; in his relief, he saw Tessa and Clary standing side-by-side, escorted by James.

"Alright, Simon," said Jonathan, rising from the couch; Will followed suit. "This part of the evening is over."

"Finally." He said, getting up and walking away. Jonathan watched him leave for a second, and recognized who he was practically bee-lining for: Clary. He shook his head as Will gestured for him to follow.

The foyer was filled with everyone, wearing the same masks of confusion, apprehension, and nervousness. Overhead the chandelier glittered cruelly; Jonathan had first thought it was lovely, but now he considered it mockery, gloating to everyone about what they could never achieve in life, due to their actions. He tried to look away from it by looking down at the marble flooring, but the reflection of it winked at him maliciously.

Instead, he looked forward, and stared.

Standing in the doorway was Jia herself, standing with three men, one he recognized – Thomas Tanner, the Herondale's family friend. He was just as Will had described him: Tall, muscular, usually wearing a green leather jacket and laced-up boots. His outfit contradicted the other two men, though Jonathan didn't know who they were. Jia, like usual, was all dressed up, wearing a tight black sheath dress, with black high heels to match.

Jonathan seriously disliked her.

"Delinquents!" She yelled, as if to get everyone's attention, though no one was speaking. The alarm had just gone off a few minutes ago, and it still left everyone speechless. She didn't smile, but Thomas did. He grinned out over the crowd happily, even winking at Sophie. Sophie smiled for the first time since arriving.

Jia continued, appearing to take no notice of Thomas's actions. "Today is your first Construction Day," she said, as if everyone had forgotten. "And we are approximately two hours behind due to weather conditions." She glanced at the three men behind her before continuing. "Today, you are all going to be shown what your assignments are, and what group you are paired up in. There is a total of six groups, and each group has four people in it; two boys and two girls. Within these groups you have partners, and each partnership has a boy and a girl. There will be no switching," she added as an afterthought. "Just so everyone is clear."

She stepped aside and gestured for the three men to be presented forward. She spoke again. "These men are going to be monitoring your groups. They will monitor two groups each. Treat them as you would treat a teacher, or a guardian of some sort." Her eyes glittered; the word _babysitter_ rang viciously through the room, unsaid. "Treat them with disrespect, and they can easily send you through Redemption. Redemption, my awful children, is rough work completed during Construction Days. You'll be in conditions so cruel you'll almost wish you reconsidered being sent to jail. The more times you are sent to Redemption, the longer the hours build up. If you reach a total of ten days of Redemption, you will be thrown out of here and into jail."

The room was an unsettling quiet. She clapped her hands together, startling a few people. "Alright! Let me introduce you to our babysitters. This is Archer" – she indicated to a large man in a long, black coat, the sort of man that reminded Jonathan of child molesters – "and this is Walker" – next to Archer stood an identical-looking man, wearing a similar black coat – "and last but certainly not least, Thomas." She said his name with a thin layer of distaste. He was already liking Thomas, but this made Jonathan like him more. When his name was mentioned, he grinned to everyone again and waved.

Jia looked like she swallowed a lemon. Turning back to the crowd, she forced a wide smile. "I will now stand aside and let Thomas take over with the Matching."

She took Thomas's place as he stood before everyone. He cleared his throat and smiled again, his hands shoved in his pockets. "Hello, misconstrued teenagers," he said, his accent English. "I am Thomas."

A sarcastic chorus of "hello, Thomas" issued through the room. His grin widened.

"I am going to match everyone up today. When I call your name, please come up here to accept a tracking bracelet. This bracelet will remain on your wrist until said otherwise. Meaning, you'll get it off in, like, twelve weeks." He made a face. "Man – that sounds worse saying it out loud."

"Thomas," Jia interrupted. "Your point."

"Right." He took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and spread it out, quickly scanning the content. "Okay, good – for a second I thought I grabbed my grocery list. But if my groceries included random strangers, then it looks like I made a questionable, fatal mistake."

"_Thomas_!"

"Right, sorry Jia." He was grinning and chuckling, clearly enjoying making Jia mad, the bastard. He cleared his throat and furrowed his eyebrows, reading from his paper. "The next few partners called will be placed in Walker's group. Okay, first people up: Julian and Emma!"

Applause came from the audience, more sarcastic than congratulatory. Julian and Emma, both about fifteen, stepped forward uncertainty. Thomas impatiently gestured forward, and the two kids ended up facing each other. The scene looked wild – as if they were to be married. Thomas grabbed a briefcase Walker was carrying and opened it up quickly. He pulled out to bracelets.

"Alright, you rebellious kids," he said. "Boy – Julian – hold out your left hand." Julian did; Thomas clasped the bracelet on his wrist. "Okay, now girl – Emma – hold out your right hand." Emma did, and he clasped the bracelet on her wrist. After both bracelets clicked on, it made an approving buzzing noise, and silenced.

Thomas clapped his hand together. "Okay," he said happily. "You are now officially partners." He grinned over at them, who were looking at each other in curiosity. Thomas cleared his throat to get their attention, but neither looked at them.

Emma gave Julian a quick, worried glance before turning to Walker. He didn't respond to them; he looked out into the crowd coldly, his gaze avoiding them. Poor kids. Thomas directed them back into the crowd, telling them to stick together. Jonathan saw Julian offer his hand to Emma for support, and she gladly took it, looking at him gratefully.

"Next up is…" and Thomas went off into naming Gideon and Sophie, who both looked shocked into being paired up together. Jonathan didn't blame them; they didn't know each other at all. They went up to Thomas, accepted their bracelets, and disappeared back into the mass full of people.

The only thing on Jonathan's mind was who Clary was going to be paired up with. He'd rather it'd not be one of the Herondales. She was already thrown into this problem; she doesn't need to be in the middle of it. He preferred her to be paired up with himself or Simon, if anything. But if she was paired up with himself, he wouldn't have the chance to meet any girls. That's a negative blow.

Thomas's voice rang in his ears: "Simon and Isabelle!" Jonathan silently cursed; now the only person he preferred Clary to be with was himself. He glanced quickly around the crowd as Simon dispatched himself from Clary's side, walking up in front of everyone with Isabelle; who was left? Already six people had been ruled out… so that means seventeen people are left for Clary to be paired with, granted if she wasn't going to be paired with anyone.

But that would be too good to be true for Jonathan.

After Simon and Isabelle received their bracelets, they too disappeared back into the crowd, and Simon didn't head back to Clary's side. Thomas glanced back down at his paper before reading out, "Magnus and Helen."

A murmur escaped through the room – both Magnus and Helen were gay, and they've been selected as partners. This was going to get _very _interesting.

Magnus stepped forward, and after a few seconds so did Helen. They gave each other a knowing grin before facing each other in front of Thomas. Thomas grabbed the last pairs of tracking bracelets and clicked it on both their wrists; the bracelets shuddered in unison, then became still. He indicated for the two of them to walk back into the crowd, and they did, grinning like little children.

Thomas gave the now empty briefcase to Walker and grabbed the next briefcase from Archer. "The next few people called," he said, distracted by the lock on the case, "will be placed under Archer's watch." The case sprung open, and holding it with one hand, Thomas read the names off the list with the other. "Okay," he said. "Jordan and Maia, please step forward."

Jonathan watched as the couple stepped forward, their hands interlinked. He didn't know much about the two – Maia is an underage drinker and Jordan pick-pocketed – but he knew that whatever had sparked between them is slowly snuffing out. It's obvious by the way Maia had begun to space herself away from him by not sitting together at dinner, or by giving other guys obvious glances, or just being generally rude to Jordan. It was like she was regretting ever hooking up.

And now, they're partners for twelve weeks.

He stood there, dazed by his thoughts; he didn't notice the couple walk off with matching tracking bracelets, didn't notice the next pair walk up: Gabriel Lightwood and Cecily Herondale.

"Gabriel and Cecily!" announced Thomas, a small, almost invisible grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Jonathan heard his voice as if it were through water; he felt Will tense beside him, noticed Jem in front of them whip his head back to send them an alarmed look, glanced at the grim-faced Jace, who was standing with Gabriel's cousin, Alec.

Gabriel was suddenly standing in front of everyone, and Cecily, her curly, black hair bouncing at her shoulders, quickly joined him. She glanced at Will first – they had always been closer than her cousin Jace – and then looked back at Gabriel. He seemed very relaxed, his hands shoved in his pockets, his expression bored. He didn't know anything about the dangers the Herondales faced. He was safe.

He was safe.

Time sped up quickly; he barely noticed Thomas clicking the bracelets on Gabriel and Cecily's wrists, barely noticed them walking back into the crowd. Beside him, Will relaxed fractionally. He shot a quick glance over at him. Will, his mouth drawn in a thin line, eased ever so slightly, almost unnoticeable. Jonathan turned his attention back to Thomas.

Thomas, fidgeting with the crumble-up paper, announced, "Next pairing – Alec and Aline!"

Jonathan saw Alec pat Jace's arm before shouldering his way up to Thomas. Aline pushed her way forward as well, and they stood facing each other, wrists outstretched. Thomas clasped on the bracelets on them; Jonathan saw the medal shudder, and then stilled. Aline shot a quick smile over at Alec, who returned it grimly.

"Okay," Thomas said, scratching the back of his head. A smile was playing on his lips. "The next two victims – I mean partners, _pardon me_, are James and Seelie!"

A murmur escaped the crowd. James, who was standing along with a shocked Tessa, gave her a small, sad smile, and started to walk forward. Seelie did the same. Jonathan watched them, frozen. Why wasn't James and Tessa paired up? He watched as Thomas snapped on the bracelets, watched them shudder, watched as James sent Seelie a glittering smile, which she did not return.

Thomas grinned after them as they disappeared back into the crowd. "Okay, this is the best part – _my_ group," he said, and with a start Jonathan realized he, Will, Jace, and Clary are all in the same group. That relaxed him to the point where he felt light-headed and dizzy with relief. Jonathan wondered if that was a coincidence. "The first pairing will be given to Will and Tessa!" Thomas voiced, his eyes glittering.

Will's tension washed off him like a wave. He grinned broadly and stepped forward, his shoulders lit high. Jonathan glanced at Tessa, who looked worried. That's right – Tessa and Jem are dating, and if she's paired up with Jem's best friend for twelve weeks… well, getting in between Will and Jem wasn't a smart move, and Jonathan was sure that Tessa knew that. She shouldered her way through the crowd and joined Will and Thomas.

Though they shared no verbal contact, Jonathan caught the way Will and Thomas were communicating by the way they shared quick glances toward one another. Jonathan wondered why they weren't being more careful, when he saw Tessa arrive with them. She wasn't looking at Will or Thomas; her attention was set on Jem, who was giving them both a supportive smile. Jonathan wasn't surprised that James was being so supportive, considering he's probably the kindest person in this house.

Thomas clasped on the tracking bracelets on their wrists; the bracelets vibrated on them momentarily, and then stilled completely. Will, interested, picked at the screen on it, and Tessa had to drag him back to the crowd by his arm.

Will guided himself back to Jonathan. "This thing," he muttered under his breath, watching Thomas apprehensively as he turned over the piece of paper in his hand, "_hurts_ when it vibrates. My wrist is still stinging."

"Poor you." Jonathan grinned, watching Thomas scan his paper. "Maybe you can ask Tessa to kiss you better."

Before Will can retort, Thomas exclaimed, "oh!" loudly, the word echoing off the walls. He glanced up and grinned sheepishly at the crowd. "I found the names." he said lamely, earning a few snickers escape from where Sebastian and his gang were standing. "Anyway," he continued quickly, "the next paring – Jace and Clary!"

Jonathan completely froze. Jace and Clary, a _pair_? For _twelve weeks_? No way was he authorizing that to happen, no _way…_

"_Jonathan_," Will hissed, jabbing his elbow in his robs.

Jonathan glared over at him. "What?"

"Be calm," he said quietly. "We'll discuss this later."

"But –"

"Look." Will pointed over at Jace and Clary, who were standing in front of each other. Jace stared down at her with interest, while Clary was visibly biting the inside of her lip, oddly conflicted. They stretched out their wrists, and Thomas clasped on the tracking bracelets. They hummed with a kinetic energy, silencing after a few seconds. Clary rubbed at her wrist, and she and Jace disappeared back into the large crowd.

Jonathan resisted the urge to snap at Will; instead he set his mouth in a firm line, his hands jammed in his pockets rolling into fists.

"That was entertaining," Thomas muttered, staring after Jace and Clary with a controlled amusement. "But not as entertaining as the next pair-up – Jonathan and Jessamine, come on up!"

Jonathan gave Will a concealed glance before shouldering his way up in front of Thomas. Though he and Thomas had never met in person, Thomas had been greatly in formed of him. Jonathan felt a spark of nerves as he reached his side. Thomas glanced down at him curiously; his hazel eyes scanning, his brown hair curling on the back of his neck. He seemed so young, yet age still clung to him, gripping him down.

"Nice to finally meet you," he muttered under his breath.

Jonathan glanced at him quickly, but was saved from answering by Jessamine's presence. Jessamine was one of Sebastian's whores, next to Kaelie and Seelie; he needed to be careful about what he says around her for now on.

Thomas instructed them to hold out their wrists. Jonathan did so, and was rewarded with the cool touch of the bracelet. He felt Thomas clasp it on, and saw he do the same to Jessamine. His bracelet shuddered painfully, the feeling equivalent to a thousand knives dug into his skin. Just as quickly as it came, the sensation stilled.

He glanced over at Jessamine quickly – she was pretty, he supposed, with her glossy blonde hair and bright brown eyes. She was definitely Jonathan's type to date. But he had to make sure she wasn't completely loyal to Sebastian. Lost in thought, they both ascended back into the crowd, close to each other yet far apart.

Jonathan watched through lidded eyes as the last pairing was called up – Sebastian and Kaelie. They strutted up to Thomas confidently, accepted their bracelets, and headed back into the crowd side by side. Though they weren't holding hands or sending suggestive winks or anything, Jonathan sensed a sexual relationship blooming between the two. Nothing had given him more disgust.

Thomas sent the crowd a mock-salute before joining Archer and Walker. Jia stepped forward again, clearing her throat when passing Thomas. Her dark, brown eyes scanned the crowd with an almost affectionate distaste. She shook her head. "The bus has arrived," she announced. "Please sit in your assigned seating, as your names are marked on the back of the seats in front of yours. Stop _whining_," she snarled, ending a few moans issuing from the crowd. "You are organized by groups, and more specifically, with your partner. I hope you do not have a feud with them," she said with a bitter smile, "for this will indeed be a very long twelve weeks."

**A/N: Okay, because the chapter was so long, I had to cut if in half. But don't worry, for I will update the next chapter tomorrow. I promise. The nect chapter, chapter six, will consist of a _lot_ of Clace. Trust me. a _LOT_. I realized the plot line is kind of dragging on, and I'm sorry for that; I'm trying to build everything up, to create tension, but it's getting difficult to keep it interesting. Oh well; hopefully the next chapter will keep me going. **

**~MJ**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Finally, it updated! I had to rewrite most of this, as it had not saved on my computer like I thought it did. Ugh. I spent three hours rewriting, and I do not plan to reread this over for mistakes. So if you see one, sorry; I'm not fixing it. I know it's late, and probably no one is going to be able to catch this story. Oh well.**

**Fair warning: this chapter is **_**really**_** long. I was going to originally post it along with chapter five, but that would be over 13,000 words… waayy to much for a chapter update. Oh, and I'm sorry if I hadn't been able to respond to any comments. I'm still trying to figure out this site, and from my tight schedule with honor's homework,**physical therapy, updating, **_**and **_**responding to comments... well,** it has been proven difficult, to say the least.**** Anyway, here's your chapter – I really need to start homework.**

**Disclaimer: All characters go to Cassandra Clare. All view descriptions go to Canada. **

* * *

><p>Clary didn't know how to feel.<p>

She didn't know Jace. Never even had a conversation with him. And now, here she was, pressed side by side with him on an hour bus drive. She glanced over at him; He was looking around the bus with mild interest, not even once looking at her. His face was turned away from her, and she was given the sight of his messy blond hair.

Clary was about to say something along the lines of, _what's up?_ but then thought better of it, and turned back to the window. She craned her neck to see the reflection of the people in front of her, curiosity and boredom taken over – it was Will and Tessa. Like Clary, Tessa was pressed into the side of the window as well. The seats besides Clary and Jace held Sebastian and Kaelie, and in front of them Jonathan and Jessamine.

Because they were in the last group, they were all seated in the very back of the bus. This would have been fun, being the farthest away from any adult supervision (the bus driver), if it weren't for the fact she was surrounded by strangers. Her and Tessa had two conversations, and the last one they shared was alarming. _Don't trust anyone. _She never talked to Jace, Sebastian, Kaelie, or Jessamine, and a conversation with Jonathan would definitely lead to some sort of fight.

Jonathan. She didn't really know what to make up of him, either. She supposed he cared about her in a weird way. And she supposed she felt the same. Whenever he walked into a room, Clary's eyes trailed after him, feeling a spark of alarm whenever he was about to cause trouble. And lately she would feel the urge to talk to him about anything, even things personal. She had guessed it was normal sibling feelings, when she realized it was trust. She trusted Jonathan.

Still, something continued to seem off about him. Tessa's words continued to echo in her mind, whispering and secretive. _Your brother is powerful here. _What could she possibly mean by that? Tessa had mentioned something about him belonging to a powerful family, and being friends with the Herondales. The Herondales knew someone in the house, someone who knew everything about everyone…

Jace shifted uncomfortably beside her. She glanced up at him curiously, and with a jolt realized his eyes were trained on her. And she felt mesmerized. Jace's brown eyes, as she had thought, weren't brown, per se – they were _golden_, swirling around like an uncontrollable heavenly fire. His eyes so matched his hair, the almost same shade of gold, his tan skin complimenting his look. And his look wasn't so bad either. Sharp jawlines outlined his face, his golden hair curling around his neck attractively, giving off the messy yet classy look.

He cocked an eyebrow. "May I help you?"

She felt herself blush – how long was she _staring?_ – and spluttered her words. "You were staring at _me_," she demanded, trying to hide the heat in her cheeks. "What do _you_ want?"

He dimpled. "It's hard not to glance," he said after a moment, "at a girl who's practically in your lap. Honestly, why couldn't we have gotten the other bus?"

She ignored his comment about her being in his lap and considered his question. "They want to torture us indirectly," Clary answered seriously. "They knew some of the pairings on this bus were destined to end up fighting, like Gideon and Sophie, or Jordan and Maia, and having them sit next to each other must be entertaining."

Jace, concealing his impressment at her answer, nodded. "So I see I'm not the only one noticing the star couple in this house crumbling."

"It doesn't take a detective to figure it out."

"Are you implying they're oblivious to everyone's obvious notice?"

"No, I'm implying that people who look a little closer at the scene will figure it out."

"So it does take a detective." Jace gave her a lopsided smile. "I guess that makes me Sherlock and you Watson."

Clary narrowed her eyes at him. "Why am I Watson and you're Sherlock?"

"Because," said Jace breezily. "Sherlock is taller than Watson, and is highly advanced in this sort of thing."

Clary shook her head. "But Watson has been in a war, and Sherlock hasn't. You have that look. A look of seeing war. Like a veteran."

He looked startled at her observation, but did not answer. Clary, suddenly worried that she had offended him in some way, felt butterflies flutter in her gut. She steered the conversation away from that. "So I wonder why we've been paired up." She said conversationally, though her voice came out as uneven and unsteady.

Jace raised his eyebrows. "We've been paired up," he said slowly, "because it was at random. Unless," he continued, his signature spark igniting in his golden eyes, "_you_ believe we've been paired up because of fate."

Clary snorted. "Fate must be handing me my first murder victim."

"Ouch," He placed his hand above his heart. "I am wounded. I declare you nurse me back to health."

Clary ignored this. "My heart bleeds for you, Jace."

Jace didn't respond. He tilted his head back in thought, a smile creeping at the corner of his lips. Clary wondered if this was how all boys looked when they were thinking about something very inappropriate to say. She braced herself to defend anything he flings at her. "Didn't you say we were all paired up for entertainment?"

Clary, taken aback, nodded.

He grinned. "I wonder what source of entertainment we'll offer, then," he said.

_There it is. _She flushed, all smart retorts and comebacks forgotten, and turned away towards the window. Jace, seeing her reaction, busted out laughing.

They didn't strike up a conversation again for a long time. Clary stared out the window as she occasionally eavesdropped on Will and Tessa's conversation. At one point, Will asked her about the weather, and she had sarcastically moved her head away from the window and jabbed a finger at it. Another time Tessa asked politely how he and Jace were related, and he responded with: "he was birthed from a mermaid and magically cascaded down from the heavens and into my Aunt Celine's open hands."

After that, they hadn't talked much. Tessa played continuously with her necklace, Will and Jace recollecting memories and embarrassing scenarios they had both shared. It was quiet comical, until Tessa had cut them off by implying very heavily the matter she wished to speak of was serious: "_Will_."

Will sat back down in his seat and turned to Tessa curiously; Jace slumped back in his and struck up a conversation with Jonathan, who was previously discussing matters with Jessamine. Clary, more interested with what Tessa and Will had to say and was closer to them, decided to eavesdrop by pressing her face against the cool window pane, listening.

"Yes, Tessa?"

"What did I _ever_ do to you?" She whispered, so quietly Clary had to lean in to catch it.

Will's breath hissed out between his teeth, and through the reflection Clary saw him raking a hand through his black hair, causing it to stick up in tufts. "It's not you," he said finally. Tessa stared at him in confusion. "It's just – James. He's sick, and I want the best for him."

"So you think I'm not good enough?" Tessa asked, her voice catching. Clary could hear the hurt radiating off of her.

"No!" Will looked startled. "Quite the opposite. It's just that he is so kind and compassionate, and I don't want that to shatter with a broken heart."

Anger seeped into Tessa's words. "So, what? You think I'm going to break his heart? Using him, maybe? Who do you think I am, a _slut_? _You don't even know me_ –"

"_Tessa_," Will interrupted quickly. Clary saw the mask of anger he wore, and briefly wondered if he's wearing that for show and not because he's actually upset. If anything, Will was more nervous and startled than anything else, as if he were getting attacked. "That's not what I'm saying."

"Oh, really?" Tessa demanded venomously. "Than what exactly _are_ you saying, William?"

"I meant," he hissed, real anger seeping off him like a wave, "I wanted the best for him, always. Every girl he has been with used him in some way, and by the way you had handled yourself in the first breakfast, I thought you'd be one of those girls. Clearly, you don't seem to be. I have never properly introduced myself to you, to get to know you better, because you _keep on snapping at every goddamned thing I say_."

Tessa seemed taken aback as she looked at him weird; it was a mixture between regret, worry, and sadness. "Will," she said softly, sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." Will, saying what he probably had wanted to say from the beginning, slumped back in his chair in exhaustion, as if a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders.

The conversation was obviously over. Clary felt extremely guilty, as if she had intruded on something private and raw, something she should have never witnessed. That wasn't too far from the truth, considering the conversation was between them and not herself. She resolved to slumping back in her seat, admiring the view of a powdery white landscape.

* * *

><p>Clary awoke to Jace nudging her in the ribs. With a groan she sat up, and gasped as a sharp pain flared suddenly in her neck. She had fallen asleep awkwardly against the window, her body pressed against it tightly from Jace taking up way too much room. She saw him glance down at her, an eyebrow raised, as he stood up with everyone else.<p>

She sat up suddenly. They were there, in Idris – the forgotten town that needed repairing. She quickly looked out the window and saw that they were currently parked outside of a large, marble building, held up by pillars. Snow caked the ground, and in the distance she saw where the clearing for the woods ended. The town was surrounded by massive, green pine trees and snow. No wonder the town is abandoned – they were in the middle of nowhere. Everyone seemed to be filing out, and Clary shoved her way out into the bus aisle to join them.

They slowly climbed out of the bus and into the chilly winter air, snow lightly falling on them. Clary hugged herself tightly; she was just wearing a t-shirt. When she had gotten out of the bus, she was one of the last people to be joining the thick crowd surrounding Jia, Thomas, Walker, Archer, and a man she had to pause to remember: the mayor of Idris, Hodge Starkweather.

Everyone stood in front of them, watching as Jia and Hodge talked quietly to one another as the three men stood awkwardly behind them, not bothering to strike up a conversation. Clary stood close to Jace, trying to discreetly stay warm. He had on a leather jacket and boots, looking as warm as Clary hoped she would be.

Finally, after a few agonizing moments of shuddering and clutching, Jia looked out into the crowd and grinned. "Hello, teenagers!" She sang. "I see you have forgotten to grab your working gear." She observed, staring at everyone closely.

"That's because," Hodge cut in, a weird beam on his face, "we haven't distributed them out yet."

"Ah." Jia tapped her chin, turning to the three men behind her. "Boys, can you fetch the working gear for everyone?"

One of the men, the younger one named Thomas, narrowed his eyes. "Does that include–"

"Everything?" Jia gave him a bitter smile. "Yes, I'm afraid so, Thomas."

He nodded and walked back towards the bus, Walker and Archer following him; everyone's eyes trailed after them, watching as they opened the compartment that had once held their luggage. The compartment door swung open, revealing cardboard boxes stuffed with something – the working gear, Clary guessed. Whatever that was. They hauled the boxes back towards the conversing adults.

They stopped talking abruptly as the boxes were dropped in front of them. Jia glanced down at them and smiled over at Hodge, who was observing whatever was inside with interest. Jia then looked back out into the crowd, her smile gone. "I want you to form a line by groups," she said. "First Walker, then Archer, then Thomas. Go in order from when you were called up as partners. Go."

After a bit of chaos and confusion and with some assistance from the three men, everyone managed to get into an orderly line organized according to when they were all paired up. Clary stood behind Jace closely, looking mournfully at the long line ahead of them, and knew there were only four people behind her. She felt Jonathan's stare on the back of her neck like a laser, as if all her movements were recorded. Subconsciously, she scooted closer to Jace, partly to become warmer. She was shuddering to such an uncontrollable point she was afraid she'd die shaking. Jace, probably hearing her, turned around curiously. With one sight of her he grinned widely. "Honestly Clary," he said teasingly. "You have got to stop getting my attention like this – it's becoming embarrassing."

"Shut up," she snapped. "I'm freezing."

"Clearly." He shrugged off his leather jacket and handed it to her. Seeing her hesitation, he made an impatient noise at the back of his throat. "It's almost below freezing, you're wearing a thin t-shirt, and your skin is looking a bit blue. Put it on."

"I am not looking blue," she protested, but hastily grabbed the jacket out of Jace's hand and shrugged it on. The warmth and smell of Jace wrapped around her like a blanket, and she briefly realized why girls liked their boyfriend's hoodies so much. Clary hugged the jacket closer to herself, trying to calm down her shuddering.

She looked at Jace sideways. Underneath the jacket he was wearing a thin thermal shirt, nothing better than what she had on. Guilt bloomed in her chest; out of instinct she wrapped herself around him. She felt him tense and looked down at her curiously. "What," he asked slowly, "are you doing?"

Clary flushed, despite the cold. "You seem cold."

He snorted. "So you thought the only possible way that issue could be fixed is to throw yourself on me? I know I'm attractive, Clary, but honestly this is getting ridiculous."

Clary scowled up at him, her arms loosening around his torso. "If you don't want my help to keep you warm," she said, finally letting her arms fall to her sides, "then I won't."

She saw him bite his lip, but didn't say anything; instead, he reached out and zipped up the leather jacket on her. Clary's mouth went dry watching him. His own golden eyes darkened staring at her, his fingers lingering over the zipper. He suddenly looked away and cleared his throat, letting his own hands fall at his sides. She saw his mouth working, his throat constricting. "It's warmer when you zip it up." He replied, fully turning away from her and facing the front of the line.

"Right." Clary had to swallow several times to help her dried mouth. She suddenly felt hot and shaky, but a different shaky than she had been moments before. Her knees felt weak, and she was lightheaded. She was suddenly conscious of the muscles in his back through the thin thermal shirt.

Trying to put her mind on other things, Clary tried to get a view on the gear they had to wear on the people who had already received it. But all of those people had already retreated into the marble building, probably waiting for the line to thin more. Clary estimated a good fifteen more people in front of her, and she sighed.

Finally, her and Jace reached the front. Hodge, seeming more groomed than last time she had seen him, asked for Jace's name. Jace answered, and Hodge started to shuffle through the boxes before pulling out a folded bright orange, insulated jacket with thick, white ski pants, and leather brown boots. "C'mon, boy, move on," muttered Hodge, indicating for Clary to step up to him. Jace muttered something like "basspole" under his breath; Hodge ignored this.

"Name?" he demanded.

"Clary," she replied crisply.

"Clary who?"

"Clary Morgenstern."

"Ah – here you are." He pulled out a similar outfit to Jace's, except hers were obviously smaller than his were. He dumped the clothes in her arms and pointed to the marble building. "Just walk up there and change into this. _NEXT_!"

Clary trudged up the stairs, looking around the marble building. It looked like a very old courthouse. When she entered through the wide open doors, she first caught sight of how many orange jackets there were. The three men were standing a little off from each other, putting away various articles of clothing into boxes.

Then Clary looked up. The ceiling came up to a smooth point above her, a beautiful mural stretched across it, consisting of a lovely view of men slowly helping one another out, surrounding each other and doing small things. A beautiful chandelier sparkling winked down at her. The marble walls holding it up were mostly cracked from age, and Clary noticed four pillars throughout the room holding up the ceiling, decorated with Christmas-like vines.

Clary immediately saw Thomas and shoved her way through to try to get to him. When she reached him, he looked at her a little oddly. "Why aren't you changed?" he asked.

Clary looked down at herself, noticing she was still wearing Jace's heavy leather jacket. "I just got my clothes," she muttered.

Thomas grinned. "Isn't that Jace's jacket?"

She whipped her head up, looking at him with shock. "How did you know…" Then it clicked. Of course – why couldn't she see it before? Why else would Jace and Will and Jonathan be in the same group without some sort of knowledge to pair them up close together? Thomas – he was the one who knows everything about everyone.

He was the one who could possibly know why her parents split up, why she was never informed of having a brother.

Clary cleared her throat. "You're the guy the Herondales are close to, right?"

His eyebrows rose, but he did not answer.

"I knew it," she exclaimed breathlessly, examining Thomas closer. He had a faint sparkle of amusement twinkle in his eye. "But why?" she demanded. "Why would you basically tell me this? How do you know I won't snitch?"

Thomas snorted. "Please," he said. "If I hear is correct, being Jonathan's little sister and all, you wouldn't tell. Besides," he added with a smirk, "I saw you and Jace become extra close in line over there. I wouldn't expect anything to be shed from your mouth, miss." He winked at her, causing Clary to blush.

"Nothing happened between Jace and I," she spluttered.

Thomas shrugged. "Didn't seem like that in the distance," he said.

Clary's cheeks were boiling hot; she quickly shrugged off Jace's leather jacket and handed it to Thomas. "Here – give it back to Jace," she said quickly, words tumbling out of her mouth from embarrassment. "He'd kill me if I lost it."

"Knowing Jace," said Thomas breezily, plucking the jacket out of her hands. "He'd probably 'kill' you in a kinky way before actually committing to the real deal."

"_Thomas_!" Clary hissed, hiding her burning face in her hands.

He chuckled as he tucked the jacket safely back in the box, muttering "you know I'm joking," in doing so. Turning around, he looked at her more sharply. "But seriously – put on your clothes. I may like you, but that doesn't mean I would get fired for you."

Clary looked at him for a moment through her splayed fingers, contemplating on whether he was kidding or not. He held his gaze firmly on her, and she thought, _Guess not. _Another thought shot in her mind: _Where do we change? _Looking around, she saw several people stripping in front of everyone, no shame. Knowing she was most definitely not going to do that, Clary ducked behind a pillar and started to slowly take off her shirt. She was wearing a cheap bra underneath, and feeling mildly embarrassed, she quickly shrugged on her jacket and zipped it all the way up. The jacket, though in size extra small, kissed the top of her knees. She quickly stripped off her jeans and slipped into the thick snow pants. Clary jammed her feet into the brown boots, forgetting on tying them, and went back over to Thomas.

When Thomas caught sight of her, he looked mildly amused. "Orange is _so_ not your color." he declared, grinning. Clary rolled her eyes and handed him her shirt and jeans, which he neatly folded and packed carefully into the clothes-filled box behind him. Straightening back up, Thomas looked at her sharply. "Stay around here," he said sternly. "Find Jace. Stick with him. This'll all be over soon if you stick with him."

"What do you mean by that?" Clary asked, bewildered.

Thomas bit his bottom lip. He glanced around the large hall, as if there would be spies eavesdropping on their conversation. A spark of worry ignited in Clary. "Today is just an instruction day," he said, his words quick and quiet. "There's no real work to be done today. That's tomorrow. And after tomorrow, you'll be experiencing hell. I heard Hodge actually say that before, to Judge Imogen."

Clary's jaw dropped. "You're kidding?"

"I wish I were," he said softly. "Just stay with Jace this whole time. He knows what to do and how to handle himself – he can help you get through this."

She felt irritated. Why does everyone think she can't protect herself, that she needs to be monitored at all times, like a damsel constantly in distress? _Maybe_, a voiced whispered in her head, _you have to prove how strong you really are. _"But just like Jace," said Clary, sticking up her chin defiantly. "I can handle myself as well."

Thomas chuckled. "Good," he said. "You'll need it." He glanced behind her, frowning.

Clary followed his gaze across the room and saw Hodge indicating and gesturing at him, motioning with his hands to come forward. Hodge's movements were tense, impatient, his face holding splotches of red at the cheeks. Jia, Walker, and Archer surrounded Hodge, and they all seemed to wear the same mask of annoyance. "Be right back," he muttered, strolling up to them.

Clary watched for a moment. When Thomas reached him, Hodge furiously whispered to him, something unfriendly and quiet. Clary tried to read his lips, but couldn't understand anything – Hodge seemed to be rambling about something, and Jia often contributed by nodding her head furiously. Archer and Walker, as always, seemed impassive and a little irritated, not even showing any notice to their conversation. Thomas's shoulders sagged, and he nodded, almost reluctantly.

"Clary, what are you staring at?"

Clary jumped, whirling around to see who has spoken. It was Simon, looking like an oversized pumpkin in the ridiculous carroty jacket. He had his hair in tufts, brown eyes dull. "Simon!" Clary exclaimed, engulfing him into a hug; her face pressed awkwardly into the jacket's puffy material. "Jesus, you scared me."

He patted her back with the same amount of awkwardness. "Why were you so jumpy?" He inquired, after a moment's pause.

Clary pulled herself back, crossing her arms the best she could – the jacket's arms were puffed out, and her hands were barely able to tuck themselves under her arms. "I don't know," she sighed. "Nerves, maybe?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Nervous?"

"A little." Clary admitted.

He was about to reply, when loud feedback echoed in the room. Clary winced and covered her ears, Simon doing the same. When the loud screech subsided, Hodge, who had successfully caught everyone's attention, had the decency of looking a little sheepish, holding a microphone in his hand. He cleared his throat, creating a loud echo in the room. "Hello, teens!" he greeted cheerfully. "Today is your first Construction Day!"

No one cheered or spoke. Hodge quickly continued. "Today we will show you what your first station of construction will be for the first three weeks. There are four construction projects that need to be completed, and you all will switch off to finish it. Your assigned adult supervisor already knows where you will go and what to do first. I now ask you all come up to said adult."

As if on cue, Thomas, Archer, and Walker separated until there was enough space in between. People were already starting to file around them. Clary glanced up at Simon. He was already staring down at her, mouth drawn thinly. "See you around," she said gloomily.

"See you," he replied, going over to where Archer was standing.

Clary headed back towards Thomas, and immediately saw Jace. She stopped by his side, not bothering to look up at him. She knew he knew that she was beside him; she saw the way he had fractionally tensed and then relaxed. Thomas, who was deep in discussion with Will and Tessa, winked at her. Clary blushed, remembering what he had said.

Someone bumped into her arm, hard. Startled, Clary glanced up at her other side, and saw Jonathan. He had his orange jacket unzipped, a white t-shirt underneath exposed. He looked down at her with a worried frown. "You okay?"

Clary's brows creased. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just wondering." he replied breezily, turning away from her and to someone beside him. Clary looked past him and noticed Jessamine by his side for the first time. Clary turned away from them, a bitter taste in her mouth. She didn't like Jessamine – not even a little bit.

Thomas turned towards the small crowd gathered around him with a grin. Will and Tessa, both scowling, joined everyone else. "Okay, group. Our first assignment, I'm terribly sorry to announce, is road renovation," he paused as a few people groaned. "I know, I know – your lives are miserable, and I shed many tears for you all. What you are planned to do for three weeks is to shovel snow out of the way, pick up trash, collect all road navigation systems, and mark any cracks or portholes with some orange duct tape."

He raised some duct tape in the air, and then indicated to the box at his feet with a soft kick. "This box hold your utility bets, which has two rolls of duct tape and a garbage bag for trash. You're each assigned to do one thing per week," he said, tossing the duct tape in the box and grabbing a piece of paper out of his pocket. "This week, Sebastian and Kaelie will shovel the snow," he reached into the box and pulled out two black utility belts, which looked a lot like fanny packs. He tossed them at Sebastian and Kaelie; Sebastian caught his, while Kaelie let the belt hit her. She cried out in shock.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to _catch_ it, Kaelie," he said, clearly exasperated.

Kaelie, a bit red, ducked her head and hid her expression to retrieve the black belt. When she straightened, she indicated with a huff to make Sebastian help the belt on. He rolled his eyes and obliged.

Thomas spoke up. "Okay, Jonathan and Jessamine, you're on the 'retrieve all essential road navigational systems' patrol. Don't screw up." He, too, tossed them identical utility belts, two large packs on each hip. Jonathan muttered to himself as he strapped his belt on and helped out Jessamine, who "couldn't work out the belt buckle."

Thomas was grinning, clearly enjoying stirring up frustration. "Jace and Clary, you two are assigned to mark all portholes and cracks in the road, which will later be fixed up." He tossed a utility bet to Jace, who caught it with one hand. Thomas carefully threw his to Clary, who caught it easily. Her eyes narrowed at him when she realized he did that on purpose.

When she went to strap her belt on, she noticed Jace watching her intently. She looked up. "I got it," she insisted, working the belt buckle. It was difficult to figure out, with complicated locks and complex loops, but she got it – sort of. It hung loosely on her, and she swore softly. Looking up, she saw Jace staring down at her with amusement. "What?" she demanded. "Something funny?"

"Yeah," replied Jace, reaching for the belt. "It's your buckle techniques."

"So, what? You're apparently a belt buckle master?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up but he did not answer; instead, he bent down and reached for her hips. Clary almost gasped, _what are you doing? _but relaxed almost instantly when she realized what his intentions were. He expertly undid the belt, tightened it a bit, and buckled it back up. Clary's mouth went dry once again, staring at Jace. He grinned at her and straightened up, admiring his work.

"Thanks," she replied weakly. Clary glanced at Thomas, who was staring at them. He winked at her again and shaped a heart with his hands. Clary glared and stuck her tongue out at him, and Jace, not noticing this, turned and started talking to Will about how he'll hurt his back picking up trash.

"… Poor Will, getting back problems at such a young age," Jace was saying, grinning. "Hopefully it'll all be worth it, when your hands smell of garbage – kind of like your humor."

"Shut up, Blondie," Will snapped, but he was chuckling good-naturedly. "At least _I_ don't have to worry about falling in portholes all day. Then I can make puns about 'falling into the wrong hole' to you for the rest of my garbage-smelling life."

"Guys," Thomas interrupted, rolling his eyes. He was laughing. "Focus on the bigger picture here, and I'm not talking about future back problems."

"Future medical bills _for_ back problems?" Will suggested. Jace snorted.

"Close," said Thomas admittedly. He glanced around the room, and Clary saw what he was seeing: Archer's group had already filed out, and half of Walker's group remained, along with Jia and Hodge. Hodge glared at Thomas, and Thomas immediately straightened his back, "I have to lead you to the roads, now," he said, all humor in his voice gone. "Follow me."

* * *

><p>"This is boring."<p>

"You've said that already."

"I thought it was worth mentioning."

"Well, it wasn't."said Clary, bitterly laying the bright orange tape over a long crack formed into the road. She ignored Jace's smart reply back to her as she carefully fixed her tape. Thomas had led them pretty far away from downtown, and they were on an old street named "Brocelind Forest" with old houses lining the road. The end of the road trailed off into the woods, and it scared Clary more than she'd like to admit. The woods were creepy - even if it is daylight outside. Thomas had said they had to work their way all the way back up to downtown, which will take a good three hours including the amount of time it takes to bend down and mark the cracks in the road. Downtown itself was just two miles away.

She blew out a strand of red hair out of her face, looking up at Jace. He was standing by her, playing the roll of duct tape in his hand. "How much longer, do you think?"

"Considering we just got out here," he said, "I'm guessing a lot longer."

Clary groaned and hauled herself up, wiping off the gravel that clung to her clothes. At least they were warm against the cold. "This is stupid," she declared, walking along side Jace as they headed back up to the town. "We couldn't have gotten a more boring job to do."

"Hey, be thankful," he said, ruffling his blonde hair. The light fall of snow clung onto his hair, making it appear startlingly golden. "At least we don't have to shovel up snow."

Clary shuddered at the thought. She tucked in stray red hair in her coat, glancing at Jace curiously. "I know about your family and Thomas," she blurted suddenly.

His eyes widened; he whipped towards her, golden eyes blazing. "You _what_?" he breathed.

Clary stopped walking, seeing he had frozen in his tracks. "Yeah," she began weakly, noting how scary Jace's expression had become – a mixture of fury, disbelief, shock, and worry. "Tessa told me some things–"

"How much do you know?" he demanded.

"Not much," Clary admitted quickly. "But I do know you could all get thrown in jail if someone finds out."

At that, Jace looked a bit relieved. Clary's eyes narrowed. Shouldn't he be _furious_ that she knows the truth? "It's a bit more complicated than that." He said, dimpling. He made a move to start walking again, when Clary shot out and grabbed his arm.

"Oh, no you don't," she exclaimed. Jace's golden eyes narrowed. "Tell me."

"Tell you _what_?" he asked incredulously.

"The truth," she said simply, almost as if she were asking what his favorite cookie flavor was.

"Now _why_," he began, "would I want to do _that_? No."

Clary threw up her hands in exasperation. "Why not?"

Jace shook his head in disbelief. "This is bigger than you realize, Clary," he said. "_Much_ bigger than jail time."

"If it's _so big_," Clary emphasized, "then why won't you tell me? To warn me?"

Jace shook his head and looked down, laughing dryly. He kicked a chunk of gravel across the road. "I still don't see why I should."

"Tessa told me Jonathan, my brother, is powerful here," she pressed on. "If he's powerful, wouldn't that make me powerful as well? Shouldn't I know what this is about, if my own family is involved?"

Jace clicked his tongue in irritation. "She told you that, did she?" he muttered. "Dammit Will… can't even trust James anymore…"

"Can you stop _rambling_," Clary angrily cut in, "and tell me what the _hell_ is going on?"

He looked up at her, then, golden meeting emerald. She could almost see the resistance shattering within him, like damaged armor clattering apart. With a final swore, he flung himself on the road, and gestured for Clary to sit along with him. She did cautiously, carefully maneuvering herself on the ground.

He sighed heavily. "Thomas is close to our family," he began, his voice dead. "Though he's only three years older than us, he babysat us while the family was away. Will and I were ten, Cecily eight, and he was thirteen. He was mainly paid to watch Cecily around this time, due to me being a new addition to the family not too long ago and Will not having a shred of responsibility in his bones. He basically watched us grew up. He drove us all to middle school and high school, until he graduated. Even after he graduated college, he still came over and hung out with us. He'd do anything for the Herondales, even if it meant breaking the law in doing so."

Clary felt alarmed. "Jace–"

He looked up at her sharply. "What?"

"When you said that he graduated college," she began quickly, "did he graduate in some sort of technical degree of some sort?"

He shifted a little uncomfortably. "How'd you figure that out?"

"Our tracking bracelets." She lifted hers and indicated to the small screen. "Everyone else's screen lit up brightly when they were clasped on, except all of the Herondale pairings."

He smiled a little. "Clever, aren't you? Yes, he messed with our tracking bracelets, but they can still track us easily." He paused. "Did you wonder why it hurt so much when it was clasped on?"

Clary nodded; Jace continued. "It barely broke the skin to check blood – to see if you're high, drunk, sick, etc. When ours buzzed, blood was drawn, but it automatically counted us as okay. That's that." Jace tapped his chin. "He also messed with Jem's bracelet, but that was more of a request from Will."

"I get why you guys were, but why Jem, too?"

Jace shook his head and smiled. "That's not my place to tell you. But I'll tell you this – he's really ill, and he might die from it. Doing this could protect him from anyone finding out about... something he needs."

"Oh," Clary felt uncomfortable. She looked at Jace, who was staring at the ground intently. "You still didn't explain why this was so dangerous."

He ruffled his hair. "Thomas would do anything for us. We helped him when no one else did, and I'm not discussing what. So when he heard we were being shipped to a redemption center, he immediately tried to get himself involved, claiming he 'always wanted to direct misguided kids in the right direction.' What he did, though, was hack into our records–"

Clary was gaping openly at Jace. She suddenly felt violated, as if someone had witnessed the most personal part of herself. "He _what_?"

Jace glanced up at her quickly before returning his gaze back down at the ground. "He did it because we're living with a crap ton of criminals – of course he would do something like that if it meant to protect us."

"Okay," Clary began slowly. "If he was just doing background checks… didn't somebody else already do that before we came here?"

"That's the thing," said Jace bitterly. "No one did. Because we're all minors, we're apparently not capable of committing anything serious."

A stab of icy fear embedded itself deep in Clary's chest like a dagger; she pushed it down and choked, "What did he find?"

Jace cleared his throat. "There's apparently a recorded 26 people here. But two people in this house have repeating profiles in the records. Thomas looked closer into the records and found out rather shocking similarities between the two. For one, they both have never even existed two months ago. It's like they sprung out of existence, weeks before court dates. Another thing is how close their charges were. They both robbed someone, and both stole the poor person's wallet – this could mean two things: one, they just needed the money or the fun. Two, they wanted to steal the person's identity altogether. Can you guess who those two people are?"

Clary shook her head, dazed. "How could I possibly _know_?"

Jace looked at her grimly. "_Think_, Clary. We're paired up together with Thomas for a reason. Will and I were placed with Thomas to help keep a close watch on everyone else. Cecily and Jem were placed in the other groups to help keep an eye on everyone else. In our group, that leaves you, Jonathan, Jessamine, Kaelie, Tessa and Sebastian. Why do you think that is?"

Clary contemplated this for a moment. "Tessa, because she's dating James… but why wouldn't she be placed with James? Unless… unless you didn't trust her, and wanted to keep a closer eye on her," said Clary, realizing this as she spoke. She looked at Jace for confirmation.

At first he didn't respond; and then, slowly, he nodded. "We thought she hooked up with James because we thought she knew something. She doesn't, apparently. Will testified to that."

Clary nodded at this. "Kaelie… Jessamine… Those two don't add up, Jace," she said, confused. "Neither do Jonathan, Sebastian, and I. And something else doesn't add up, either," she continued. Jace arched an eyebrow at her. "Tessa said my brother came from a knowledgeable family, and that 'enemies' in the house knows of this. What even – what does that even _mean_?"

Jace stood up suddenly, lending down a hand for Clary. She ignored his gesture and stood up, wiping gravel off her clothes. She looked up at him curiously. Jace, seeming distracted, started to walk back up at the town. Clary scrambled after him. "Jace–"

He grabbed some duct tape and leaned down, marking a rather large porthole. Clary stared down at him, watching his muscles flex in his shoulders as he flicked the tape down, admiring the glint of his blonde hair. Without looking at her, he replied, "Have you not really pieced everything together yet? I thought you were clever." He sounded almost disappointed.

She felt his words like a slap. Anger licked her insides as she replied, "How could I _possibly_–"

He stood up and faced her, his blonde eyes drilling into her green ones. He never looked more serious. "Thomas," he started, then paused. "The girls in Thomas's group are either suspects or innocents in this mess. Including you and Tessa. Tessa was declared innocent, as was Jessamine. But you and Kaelie remain a mystery."

"Why would we…" Clary trailed off, the realization dawning on her hard, like a wrecking ball to the stomach. Kaelie was the closest girl to Sebastian, and she was the closest girl to Jonathan. They're the suspects – Jonathan and Sebastian – they're be the people who are recorded twice. And she and Kaelie could be helping them. "Oh. Oh, my _god_."

"Yeah, _oh_." Jace said lifelessly. He started walking forward again, and Clary, with her small legs, raced to follow him. "Do you see why we wanted them immediately as friends?" He continued, Clary at his elbows. "But after Sebastian said those things to Alec, I couldn't…" He broke off, clenching his fist.

Clary, catching up to him, gently touched his bicep. He flinched from her, and she dropped her hand, almost hurt. "What happened?" She asked softly.

"Nothing," he said. Jace shook his head. "There's a reason I'm telling you this, you know," he said, staring at her. Clary stared back defiantly. "We didn't trust Tessa when James wanted to tell her everything, so we fed her some lies. But Jonathan does, well you guys do come from a very knowledgeable family."

"_Really_?"

Jace almost smiled. "Yeah, we looked into your file. You were born a Morgenstern, you know. But all of your records have you recorded under 'Fray,' or 'Fairchild.' Jonathan doesn't. This led us thinking. Someone had clearly wanted to shield you from the name Morgenstern for a long time. We did some research on the name Morgenstern and found out something very interesting."

Clary, shell-shocked at this, urged him to continue.

"Your dad – Valentine – was a serial killer. He kept his last name, but his serial killer name was Wayland, not Morgenstern. How do we know this, you may ask? Luke, your family friend, told Thomas this personally. That's why he wasn't here in the first night. We told Tessa your family was knowledgeable, which was the lie, but not valuable. We connected the pieces for your family, but what about the Verlacs? What's their connection to the Morgensterns?"

"Well?" Clary demanded. "What about Sebastian?"

Jace smiled bitterly. "A boy in his family, around the same age as Sebastian, was murdered. What was that boy's name?"

"_Jonathan_," Clary whispered, horrified. She couldn't believe it, any of it. Was this really her family? Where she came from? What she was born out of? Her dad was a _murderer_? It was too much; it took everything in her power to remain steady – the ground was shifting under her, and everything was blurring together. It was all she took to whisper "Jace," before her knees collapsed under her, and she fell right into Jace's arms as the lights went out around her, signaling the curtains at the end of a play.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Poor Clary, getting all overwhelmed like that.**

**Don't worry, I'm not planning on killing any characters off... yet. :) Was I kidding? You may never know. Actually, if I ever do finish this damn story, maybe you will find out. Maybe. It's confidential. Okay, it's like nine at night and I still need to do a lot of homework. And maybe get some sleep tonight. Hopefully. Like I said before, I'll try to respond to any comments you give me, but I promise, that process will be slow. I think I responded to like, two so far. Whoops. I'll get on that later. But for now - hasta luego, mi bonito amigos!**

**~MJ**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

**A/N: Aw yiss, a new chapter. I'm trying to get back on my updating train, but alas, that had been disfigured into something foreign and unrecognizable from my two week pause – sorry about that, by the way. Will not happen again, I can tell you that. I won't promise anything for now on; the last time I promised, I broke it severely. **

**I left off on a quick and sudden note. Clary passed out, by the way. Just hoping to make that **_**perfectly clear**_** – it was **_**not**_** a **_**literal play**_**. It was just a configuration of speech. My friend read it, and was like, "That's a plot twist – you making it into a theater entertainment besides something real." Yeah… she's not that bright. But just in case some of you thought the same, I just wanted to let you guys know. **

***** {READ IF CONFUSED}**** Something else to make clear: the person, who is either Jonathan or Sebastian, is an imposter with a shady history between both families – Morgensterns probably have it more shady, but the Verlacs had **_**one **_**son, and now he's dead… so, basically, what I was trying to imply was this question: when did they give birth to the other? And why is he the same age as their first son? **

**I have realized my mistake of making the last chapter way too confusing, and now learned the lesson of carefully and slowly introducing new topics and changes between character development and identification. Or else the reader will be confused and the author will get quickly mixed up, thus leading to a failed story. Not the best thing in the world to experience and produce. **

**Disclaimer: Characters used are not mine – they belong to Cassie Clare. If they were, I'd probably have them all living glamorous and uninteresting lives filled with love and no action. Bor**_**ing.**_

* * *

><p><em>There was nothing but white. <em>

_All she felt was the stinging bites from bitter cold. The color of a blank canvas swirled around her, encasing her in an icy storm, her red hair the only color seen. She felt compacted against something cold and hard, rough and uneven; an object small yet hard bit into her side, causing mild discomfort. A pillow-y surface covered her like a blanket, and above it was a blinding gold – something so bright and beautiful it hurt to look at. _

_She squinted her eyes at it. It seemed to be a descending angel, a golden body wrapped in white, fluttering wings stretching impossibly wide from its body. It seemed to not notice her. She tried to move, to wave an arm, to jump up – but was surprised to find herself immobilized. A yell attempted to leave her lips, but the only thing that had escaped was a mere puff of breathy air, a cloudless smoke in the sky. _

_The angel turned. He noticed her, then, the winds protruding from his back fluttering in concern. Leaning down, the angel inspected her almost clinically, golden eyes narrowing. She felt something soft brush against her body – the angel's wing, maybe? Then just as suddenly, she felt it, felt the one thing she seemed to be numb from – fear. _

"_Clary," the angel whispered, voice musical and heavenly. "Clary, wake up. Wake up, Clary."_

"_Clary, wake up." _

Her eyes fluttered open, a bright light nearly blinding her. She squinted against it, flinching away from the light. Her body stung everywhere, numb and buzzing. Carefully, with her body screaming in protest, Clary maneuvered herself in a sitting position. "What–?"

"Clary, oh thank God," A voice came from her side; she turned her head slowly, and saw Jace. His golden hair stood out startlingly now, a thin sheet of snow collecting on his shoulders, his hair, his jacket. His golden eyes, so much like the angel's, blazed a bright golden color; an uncontrollable fire against his skin. He was kneeling over her, brows furrowed in concern. "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?" She asked. Her voice was raspy, rough. She winced inwardly.

His eyebrows rose. "You passed out."

"I _what_?" she asked in surprise. Then the memory of past events hit her like a boulder. Her family. Her dad. Sebastian's family, the Verlacs. The dangers of this house. _Someone here is not who they say they are, and is framing someone else for the same crime. And I'm a sister to one of them. _She felt lightheaded from the realization.

Jace, studying her expression, nodded. "Remembering our conversation?"

"Is it true?" Clary whispered, hoping he'd jump at her with a _fooled you!_ sign.

He didn't. Instead, Jace sighed and hung his head, golden hair covering his expression. He looked so attractive like that, Clary decided, but right now was hardly the time to dwell on such things. Not when her father is convicted with murder. Not when her brother might be faking who he really is, for reasons unknown. Jace finally spoke, his throat working. "Yes."

Clary bit her lip and looked off into the distance, staring intently at the end of the road. It was so strange how it just suddenly ended, right at the tip of the forest. Eerie, even. As if it were referring to life's many questions on no matter how far you go, your road will always end. She bit her lip again, steering her mind away from such things. The houses on this street were all mostly rundown and old, each house too spaced apart. Each house obviously had its own problems – one house's roof was caving in, the other house had smashed-in windows. One house, far down the street closer to downtown, was completely fallen apart, now just a mountain of rubble and waste.

This town was trash, and only twelve weeks to repair it into something new and brilliant really wasn't a fair punishment, especially considering the variables involved – the cold weather, the small amount of people working on the project, age differences varying from a forty year old construction man with years of experience to a bunch of teenagers, teens working together who have never met before, an imposter living amongst them...

_Stop. _Clary blinked and looked away from the road, turning back to Jace slowly. He stared back at her with a bit of concern and something else; she didn't think much about the glint in his eyes. She dimpled, knowing her mind always did that when stressed – she would always black out, letting her mind wander. It was probably unattractive.

"So what do we do?" she whispered.

"Well, as of _right now_," he emphasized, "we'd probably have to bring you to a doctor."

"_No_," Clary said quickly, knowing that if she was to leave Jace now, she'd probably never get the answers she deserved. She stood up, too quickly – her head spun, and she tightly hugged the coat to herself. The air was bitterly cold, and her jacket was probably filled with snow. She quickly regained her composer, noting Jace's cocked eyebrow. "I'm fine."

He stood up as well, brushing pieces of gravel off his clothes. "You sure?"

"Pretty sure I'd be aware of my own comfort limits, Jace," she snapped, her head finally clearing up.

He raised his hands, eyes narrowing. "Hey, just making sure you're okay."

"Well, you don't _need to_," she spat, suddenly irritated. She watched as Jace's expression changed, from one of concern to one of irritation annoyance. "Why does everyone feel the need to _protect_ me all the time? I can handle myself."

Jace looked down at her, long and hard. "Clearly," he emphasized angrily and slowly, as if talking to a small child, "you can't. Someone who passes out after hearing the truth of what they've unceremoniously thrown themselves into cannot take full care of themselves, therefore acquiring assistance from the handsome prince such as yours truly."

"I did _not _get myself into this," she shot back, ignoring what he said last. "You're the one who wanted me to talk to Tessa. You're the one who decided to tell me this. I could still be living in ignorance of all this, just like everyone else is –"

Jace snorted, cutting her off mid-speech. She narrowed her eyes at him. "This is a favor," he snapped. "Imagine how'd you react to being left in the dark – not well, that's for sure."

"That doesn't mean you _push me into the middle_!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "After discovering Jonathan _officially_ had a sister," he hissed angrily, "you were thrown into this. And whose fault was that, I wonder?"

"I _didn't know_," Clary yelled. She pointed a finger at his chest. "And I wouldn't have said anything, if you didn't leave _everyone in the dark_!"

Jace waved this away, purposely stepping back so her finger fell away. "That was purely precautionary," he said. "Making the enemy think he's getting away with this is key to figuring out who it is."

"Then why does Jonathan know of your plans?" Clary whispered, anger seeping out of the softness in her voice. "Why did you tell him everything if you 'wanted to make the enemy think he's getting away with it'?"

"All we told him," Jace snapped back angrily, "is that someone in this house was seeking revenge on the Herondales. This, incidentally, will become very true if the imposter figured out what we all know. We never told him of our true intentions."

"_Then why are you telling me all of this_?" Clary cried. "How are you so positively _certain_ I won't tell anyone about this?"

"Because it's not just the imposter getting in trouble," Jace retorted angrily. "It's my family, as well. Thomas and James, too. And, for even being related to the Morgensterns, you'll get yourself into weeks' worth of questioning from the police and rulings from courts. Then your mom and Luke will be questioned a lot longer than you will, and they'll probably get thrown in jail for not reporting what they had known to the police. All this mess, just because you couldn't keep your mouth shut. Do you _really _want that?"

Clary reeled back as if he had slapped her. "My records," she said finally, after looking at Jace for a long time. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly and rapidly. "It said I had a recorded brother. And I was under 'Morgenstern.' Couldn't you have made the connection through the records that I was obviously related to Jonathan?"

He reeled back, caught off guard by her sudden change of questions. Before he could respond, a car honked at them. A car, in the middle of nowhere. Clary whirled around, and she stared at the bright orange golf cart in front of them, astonished and wide-eyed. The cart was small and painted bright neon orange, the motor vibrating it slightly. The driver, Thomas, didn't grin; he seemed mad, his grip on the leather steering wheel tight.

"You two had _four hours_ to do _one_ road," he snapped. "Get in the cart, and you can bet your asses you'll explain why this road isn't done yet."

* * *

><p>Clary and Jace were still fuming as they sat in the cart. Jace sat next to Thomas and Clary sat in the back, a tense silence between the three fuming people. Finally, Thomas spoke up, glaring through the rear-view mirror. "What happened?"<p>

"Clary passed out," said Jace abruptly, so casually as if everyone he knew fainted every once in a while.

Thomas's eyes widened. Through the mirror, he shot Clary a look. "Is it true?"

She hesitated. Would that make her seem weak in front of Thomas? Would her fainting prove she really did need help? Would her answer prove him right? Before she could think anymore, her mouth betrayed her. "Yes."

He stopped the cart, the vibrations through it stilling as the engine switched off with a flick of the wrist. Twisting in the driver's seat, he stared at her directly in the eyes, his once angry expression now holding worry and concern. "Are you okay?" he asked quickly, voice uncertain. "Do you need medical attention? What happened? Jace!" He turned to Jace accusingly. "What did you do?"

Jace spluttered as Clary grinned over at him. "I did nothing!" he said. "All I did was tell her the truth about everything, because apparently she had all her facts wrong–"

"You _what_?" Thomas looked appalled. He stared at Jace, long and hard, before accepting he's telling the truth. "Jace! How _dare you_!"

"What? She had a right to know! She's in this, after all…"

"That doesn't mean you _tell her everything!" _Thomas's voice rose to a yell. "What if she's working with Jonathan? Or her father? What if she's a spy–"

"But I'm not." Clary whispered softly, cutting him off. It took everything in her will power to not snap back out of anger. Who gives him the right to judge who she may or may not be? "I had no idea about this until Jace told me. I didn't even know what was going _on_ until I was 'summoned'to Tessa_._"

Thomas swiveled in his seat to look at Clary again. "Tessa?" he said, a little blankly.

"Yes, Tessa." Jace was looking at Thomas hard now, his nose wrinkled up in anger and distaste. Clary would have found that adorable, if not for under the circumstances. "We were told to tell Tessa the general idea about what was happening, but we didn't tell Tessa everything. Remember? That was your idea, after all."

Thomas was still looking blank, his eyebrows scrunched together. Without looking at Jace, he asked, "So, that's it? She truly knows _everything_?"

"Yes," said Jace, exasperated. He leaned back in his chair and threw a hand over his face, as if to sleep. "Everything."

"Huh." His blank expression was replaced with seriousness. "Well, if that's the case, then Clary, you have to know these rules: Do NOT speak of this again. Only bring this up when you know you're alone with Jace, Cecily, Will, or myself, in a secluded part of the house or deep into the woods. Do NOT question Jonathan OR Sebastian about this matter; this is a serious case – too serious to play trust games. Do you understand me? We can't even go to the police," he added bitterly. "They'd think this was just a joke. A prank." He spit the last word out, turning around and jerking the engine back to life. He began to drive back downtown, muttering.

Jace nodded solemnly. He turned to look at Clary. "Sorry that this was sprung on you extremely fast. Just, try not to freak out when you see Sebastian or Jonathan, okay?"

Clary nodded numbly. "Okay."

"Oh, and Clary? One more thing." Clary glanced up at him in surprise – his tone significantly dropped to a soft, comforting voice. His golden eyes were trained on her in seriousness. "Try to be nicer to Jonathan, okay?" Clary blinked at him in surprise; _what _did he just say? He smiled a little bit. "He cares about you. I can tell, his friends can tell… hell, _everyone_ can notice his overprotectiveness over you. Especially to the guys."

"But what about–"

"It might not be him," he interrupted just as softly. "He might be the one framed, and he has no clue of being so."

Clary nodded and sunk back in her seat.

"Thomas?" Jace asked. He sounded very cautious, careful. "Will we get in trouble for not completing the task?"

"No," he said with a snort. "You'll just have to work just as hard tomorrow."

"Another thing," said Jace. Thomas turned to look at him wearily. "What are we doing, leaving the road?"

Thomas looked back at the road and chuckled. "It's eleven o'clock. Break."

Clary didn't think she could or ever will be able to eat again. Like a pumpkin on Halloween, her stomach felt hollowed and dumped out. She drummed her fingers against the rough material of the golf cart seat, wondering how she'll get through this mess okay. Was it really Jonathan, or was it Sebastian? Form the way Sebastian had been acting, all signs lead to him. But you never truly know. There's always that one damn doubt in the back of her mind, ebbing away all conviction is it absolutely Sebastian.

She sighed; why couldn't this prison redemption center be normal?

* * *

><p>"What's it like, working with <em>the Jace Herondale<em>?"

Clary bitterly stabbed her fork in her salad, playing with the sliced-up tomatoes. Her and Simon sat on the floor in the Hall together, munching away on one of the two choices the organization offered as a lunch. The salad they offered was dry and bland, but it was a better choice than choosing their "mystery burgers" they handed out, which looked pink and absolutely disgusting and inedible. From the corner of her eye, she could just make out that infuriating golden head, poking out from a sea of black-haired friends: Alec and Isabelle Lightwood, Magnus Bane, and his family, Will and Cecily Herondale. Jace Herondale.

"Annoying," she answered finally, after careful thinking of her answer. She looked up and met her bitter gaze with Simon, who was munching on his salad, clearly forcing his food down. She knew the feeling all too well. "I don't see what's got all the girls practically drooling after him and Will."

Simon seemed oddly pleased with her answer. Lightly smirking, he replied, "Maybe it's their huge-ass egos. Maybe they think big egos equals big something else." He swallowed a mouthful of lettuce and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Clary's nose scrunched up. "Ew."

"Hey, just stating the facts."

"So, wait," Clary, despite barely even touching it, shoved the salad away from her with her foot and behind one of the pillars they sat by, as if to make up for the fact she couldn't locate a trashcan nearby. "Does that mean guys with huge-ass egos actually _do_ have an equally big something else?"

Simon choked on a mouthful of salad. He glared at her while hastily swallowing. "No," he stated quickly. "Quite the opposite."

"Let me get this straight," She was grinning; Clary loved to poke fun at Simon sometimes, especially when she knew she was making him irritated. "Guys with little something have big ego and guys with little ego have big something?"

"I so hope we're talking about guys' shoe size." Maia loomed over them, grinning coyly. Her bright, orange jacket gave Clary the impression of an overlarge pumpkin, her braided hair the spiraling vines. Her dark skin stood out startlingly against the jacket, much more than Clary and her milky white complexion did. Clary's eyes narrowed slightly at the other girl. What was Maia doing here?

As if to answer her question, she heard a brightened Simon laugh nervously. She shot a look at him, and almost reeled back in surprise. He looked sheepish, his hand awkwardly stuck in his hair, his body straightened. "Of course," he said. "What else?"

Maia didn't answer; instead she sat down next to Simon, plucked one of the sliced tomatoes off his carton tray, and plopped it in her mouth. Simon didn't respond to this except his laughing awkwardly. Clary raised their eyebrows at them. Was she missing something?

Maia seemed to have caught her incredulous look. She smiled at Clary, a little coldly. "What, do you think of me as a cheater, since I'm not with _Jordan_?"

Clary reeled back at her conviction. Maia had almost spat out his name, her mouth twisting as if it held a bitter aftertaste. "What? No!" she quickly regained her composer. "I was just wondering…"

"Why I'm not sitting next to him?"

Clary nodded, noting Maia taking her question right out of her mouth. She smiled bitterly. "Jordan keeps on hanging with that creep Sebastian." She jerked her chin in another direction of the Hall. Clary turned and saw Jordan, Sebastian, Gideon, and the blonde twins standing together. Maia continued as Clary slowly turned back to her. "He's even acting like him. Controlling, hateful… you know."

Her eyebrows scrunched up. "So does that mean…"

"That we've broken up?" Her bitter smile twisted into a sadder one, one that held heartbreak and ghosts of many shed tears. "Yes," she said softly. "But he deserved it." Her voice hardened, fist clenching.

"What–" Clary started, and then paused. Was it really her place to ask something so personal as to what had happened to occur a separation between two people she hardly even knew? "Never mind. It isn't really my business to ask."

Maia was studying her with a light, quizzical expression. "You were going to ask what had happened," she said, mostly to herself. Clary didn't respond, because technically Maia was right. Head on, even. She continued. "No, it really isn't. But Jordan is trouble, I'll tell you that. He–" her voice caught; she swallowed uncomfortably and turned her attention away from Clary and to Simon. "So, Simon – have you had any luck reconnecting the Wi-Fi?"

Clary gave Simon a look that clearly read _you didn't tell me that. _He shrugged at her and replied, "Yeah, but I had no success. Obviously."

Maia shrunk back in disappointment. "Ah, well. Can't blame a guy for trying, right?" Clary sensed multiple layers to that statement, but decided not to further ask Maia anything. She clapped Simon on the shoulder, stood up, and left, walking toward Sophia, who was sitting alone, propped up against the opposite pillar.

Clary immediately turned on Simon when she was out of earshot. "You didn't tell me that," she snapped icily. "I tell you everything–"

"_Really_?" Simon asked it softly, but Clary could tell the word was as hard as steel. "You tell me _everything_? What about the matter of your brother? Or the fact that your father was still alive?"

Her opened mouth clamped shut, and then opened again. "I just figured out about me having a brother not even _two days ago_!" she snapped. "And only a day ago Jonathan and I were in a fight, and I didn't want to be reminded of him."

"You still could've _told me_," Simon said, a little accusingly. "The same night, the morning right after, anything. Not from someone else."

"If I had time to _sleep,_" Clary seethed, "I would have." And with that, she stood up, brushed off her pants as if for dust, and headed straight to where Jace was sitting, leaving a fuming Simon and a long forgotten salad with only a twinge of guilt.

As she approached them, she suddenly realized the only three people she had actually talked to were Isabelle, Cecily, and Jace, and she and Jace weren't on exactly the best terms. She felt awkward, and was about to steer clear when Isabelle perked up toward her, noting her approaching. Her beautiful face lit up, and she madly gestured her over. "_Clary_!"

Everyone's heads turned, and Clary was met with several gazes. Cecily smiled over at her, almost as if smirking; Alec, Will, and Magnus cocked an eyebrow over at her, knowing they'd never spoken before; and Jace, remaining as impassive as ever, didn't take any notice of Clary's arrival. It stung, but she didn't want to admit that.

"Hey, Isabelle, Cecily," she addressed kindly. "And Jace." She tried to smother her eye roll, but it was caught by almost everyone. Will instantly started to smirk and Magnus bit back a smile. Cecily pulled Clary next to her by the hand, and Clary stood awkwardly between her and Jace. Cecily and Isabelle broke apart from the little circle they've formed and circled Clary instead, apparently finding her more fascinating.

"So, Clary," Cecily started conversationally. "How's it been?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes and jabbed her elbow in Cecily's ribs. She squealed and shot Isabelle a reproachful look.

Clary, noting Isabelle's gesture, quickly spoke up. "I've been fine," she exclaimed quickly. "But, you know, being connected with a long lost brother is really awkward."

Isabelle nodded, a small smile playing. "So sad," she said. "Your brother is hot, too. It's too bad you can never see that." She grinned at Clary's expression.

Cecily shook her head at Isabelle. "I know the feeling," she said to Clary. "People always say Will is really attractive, and always apologize for my 'unfortunate' bloodline. Like, if they really knew Will and have seen him in his underwear at age five, they wouldn't find him quite as hot as they thought he was."

Clary choked back a laugh as Will frowned over at Cecily. "Still got ears, little sis," he snarled, turning back to the other guys. Cecily smirked over at Clary, as if that completely proved her argument on Will and his underwear.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "At least your brothers are straight and available," she muttered. "My brother is gay and already seems to have a boyfriend." She frowned, upset. "Now who will I give my expert advice on girls to?"

"He has a boyfriend?" Clary asked, taken aback.

"Yes," said Isabelle slowly, casting a quick, worried look over at Alec. He seemed tired, eyes framed with a charcoaled darkness. His shoulder was leaning lightly on Magnus's. "It's Magnus. But he won't admit he is. I bet it's what Sebastian said to him, after he came out."

"What'd he say?" Isabelle shot a hard glance at Clary, whose lip caught between her teeth. Could she _not_ ask so many personal questions to people she knows nothing about? "I'm sorry–" she started again, quickly, before Isabelle cut her off with a wave of a hand.

"Don't be. It's all right to be curious about it. I mean, the Lightwoods aren't the most open family in the house, but it doesn't mean we don't share at all." She shot Clary a supportive, small smile, barely even quirking up the corners of her mouth. "I'm guessing you're okay with Alec being gay? I mean, once I've said that, you didn't seem too surprised."

Clary lifted her shoulders in a light-hearted shrug. "Honestly, who am I to judge on relationships?"

Cecily nodded empathetically. "We've heard about Raphael, you know," she said softly, her eyes filled with soft sympathy. "I'm sorry."

Clary rolled her eyes at the mention of that guy's name. "Yeah, well so am I. Raphael was a dick."

Jace burst out laughing beside her, and she could tell by the strange glances by his friends, he was laughing at what Clary had said and not what they were talking about. A small grin replaced her frown, and she turned back to the two amused girls staring at her.

Cecily's eyes twinkled. "You _like _him, don't you?"

Clary, caught off guard, asked, "Like who?"

"Jace," finished Isabelle. She studied Clary, who had started to protest, with renewed interest. She waved her off mid-reply again. "Honestly, it's okay if you do. Every girl does. Well," she said, tipping her head back to think. "Except for me and Cecily, I suppose. And Tessa, since she's with James."

"Don't forget about Helen," added Cecily. "She's a lesbian."

"And Helen." agreed Isabelle.

"_Guys_." Clary stared at them both, who stared back at her expectantly. They were smiling at her, almost smirking, as if she had just revealed her undying love for someone, and they knew all about it already. It annoyed her. But this made her think. Why did this annoy her? Was it because they seemed to know everything about her, or something else? _Did_ she like Jace? No, she decided. She didn't. He was too… snarkish for her taste. "I don't–"

"Oh, and to answer your earlier unasked question," Isabelle cut in, her eyes dulling into a hardened black color. "Sebastian called Alec 'disgusting' and 'inhuman' for being gay." Her fist clenched and unclenched angrily. "That homophobic blond _bastard_."

"I so hope you're not discussing me," someone said at Clary's elbow, breathe tickling her cheek. "Because you got a fact wrong: I am _not_ a homophobe."

Clary whirled, and was met with the sight of Jonathan. He seemed tired and worn-down, his stance slightly bent over, as if he was struggling with holding himself up. His blonde hair, slightly ruffled was covered in snow and dirt, his jacket torn and dirtied. Though he was slightly bending down he still towered over her. He grinned down at her, wincing while doing so. "Hey, Clary."

"Jonathan!" Clary looked at him in alarm. "Are you okay? What happened?" She touched his cheek where a cut rested, her fingers coming back red and wet.

He winced, again, at her contact. "Jessamine didn't want to help take down any of the street lights. So, being me, I tried to unhook one street stop light – a street light, mind you, that was barely dangling by a thread – by myself–"

"_Jonathan_!"

" –and the thing fell on me when I threw a rock at it." He finished, grimacing.

Clary stared at him wide-eyed, her mouth gaping open. "_Jonathan_!" she exclaimed again. "Are you an _idiot_?" Before he could respond, she threw her arms around him, tightening her hold around his torso; and, when noting his visible flinch, she drew back slightly. Her worried glance locked gazes with his incredulous own. "Sorry," she said, a bit sheepishly. "It's just – well, you could've died."

He dimpled. "I know," he said quietly. Then, a small quirk of the lips erupted at the corner of his mouth. "Since when have you been worried about me, little red?"

"I don't," She responded quickly, earning a chuckle from him. "If you died, then I would have to have gone through _a lot_ of trouble to make your death heroic besides dying by a falling stop light because you threw a rock at it."

"So _that's_ why you hugged me? Because no work on your part is needed?"

"No," she said again, more serious. "I hugged you because you scared me, and then I realized how big of an idiot you truly were, and my fright ebbed away like my hopes for your future."

"Ouch," he replied mildly, though he was still smirking. "Little sis has a big mouth."

Her eyes narrowed. "Who says _I'm_ the younger sibling?"

"Height."

She smacked his chest playfully, fully letting him go when she heard a collection of "aww" and "sibling love is adorable" from the group of people behind her. She stepped back and took a better look at him: physically, he was hurt. Blood was dried and crusted on his cheek and in his hair, and he had an obvious limp. His arm held his other, probably hiding another injury. He also had a black eye, dark and ugly against his pale complexion. A surge of anger went through her when she realized no one offered to take him to the hospital.

Jonathan, watching her expression closely, seemed in flinch. "Are you still mad at me, Clary?"

Her attention snapped up to his fully. His green eyes, so much like her own, were studying her, held with regret and sadness. It made her own heart clench painfully when she realized _she_ had caused that expression, not the other way around. Offering a small smile, she nodded. "Of course not," she said, watching as his shoulders sagged from relief. "But you're still an idiot."

He grinned. "And yet, you're still talking to me."

"And yet," said someone behind her, "this scene remains to be corny." Clary spun on her heels and saw Jace staring at them, smirking. He wasn't looking at her; his attention was intently set on Jonathan, ignoring her completely. She'd be lying if she said it didn't hurt. "Hey, Jonathan. Almost thought you ditched us for Sebastard over there." He jerked his chin to the other side of the Hall.

Jonathan laughed. "As if. Try almost getting brutally murdered by a falling stop light."

The corner of Jace's mouth quirked up as Will, Alec, and Magnus rushed over to Jonathan to say their hellos, blocking Clary of her view of her brother. With a defeated sigh she turned back to Cecily and Isabelle, whose heads were bent conspiringly, quickly and quietly whispering. When Clary approached, however, their conversation cut off immediately, both plastering fake smiles up at her.

Clary rolled her eyes. "You're not going to tell me what that was about, are you?"

Isabelle shook her head. "Not a chance."

Clary sighed.

* * *

><p>She knew it was going to be uncomfortable, but not <em>this<em> awkward.

Clary and Jace, after they were done "eating," were sent back to the same road they were on to finish up. They really didn't get any work done in the first four hours; visible cracks embedded into the old concrete were as noticeable as a neon sign in the snow. They would get sent to Redemption if no work has been completed, and from the sounds of it, Clary would like to stay far away from Redemption as possible.

But she was willing to go through that if Jace wasn't making things so awkward.

He wouldn't talk to her. After every attempt of a conversation, he would work as if nothing has been talking, as if he were alone. He never casted a glance towards her, never even worked near her. They stood on opposite sides of the road, Jace working in an angry haze, body purposely turned away from her. Every time she would step over the yellow line separating them, he would tense, and begin to quickly walk away from her.

It hurt a lot more than she would like to admit, yet she didn't know why. What was about Jace that intrigued her so? His actions are childish, his sarcasm even more so. But there was something about him, something that seemed to make her mesmerized…

_Stop. _She had been staring at him for so long, she hadn't noticed how far ahead he seemed to be. His blonde hair contrasted strikingly against his orange jacket, making him appear as if he were a fire full of heavenly bliss. She blinked away from him once again and casted her gaze to the road ahead of her.

Like an awful gash against rough skin, there lay yet _another_ crack. Clary bent down and unrolled her orange tape, ripping off a piece and roughly slapping it against the concrete. Standing up, she sped up her pace to Jace, who was already several houses down from her. Clary, knowing it would deeply tick Jace off, switched sides of the road and began trailing him. If she squinted enough, she could see downtown Idris, the very tip of the Hall's dome ceiling piercing the blue sky.

Her feet crunched under something. Frowning, she glanced at her feet – and stared.

Under her snow-stained shoes was a medal ring, blackened and gray. It wasn't a particularly pretty ring – in fact, it was pretty ugly – but she didn't voice that thought out loud. Because, while bending down to retrieve it, she noticed a large 'M' carved into the front, and if she squinted, she could make out a faint 'H' lightly written over it. And the ring, though rough and heavy when she picked it up, was actually fairly new, the sloppy H seeming to be written only weeks before.

It belonged to Jace. She was sure of it.

Though she didn't know why he'd own a ring with an 'M' on it, his last name did start with an 'H,' and besides, only they've walked these streets in the past year or so. The corner of her mouth quirked up with the realization he'd have to talk to her to accept this ring. But why should she give up this ring so fast, especially after the way Jace had been treating her? No, she decided. She'd make him beg for the ring back.

But was that really her? Clary pondered on this as she smacked right into Jace's back, the fluff of his jacket puffing into her face.

She nearly stumbled backward from impact if it weren't for Jace's immediate reflex to steady her. "S – sorry!" she stumbled, before thinking of who was holding her up. Glancing up, she saw Jace smirking down at her, his golden eyes almost blazing. In the daylight the snow glistened in his hair, his skin appearing more golden, his hair brighter.

"I knew girls fall for me all the time, but this is stretching it a bit," he said smugly.

Clary, feeling her face heat up, glared at him. "I ran into you," she clarified, "and let _go _of me."

He glanced down at his hands, which were still holding onto her elbows. Numbly, he released his grip, shoving his hands into his pockets. Almost instantly, her arms felt cold, as if a fire were taken away from her. She shivered slightly.

He caught her movement and his smirk lessened slightly. "Cold?"

"No." She continued to glare up at him. "And why are you talking to me? Decided to get over your little hissy fit about me?"

His face darkened as his mouth thinned. "Maybe," he snapped slowly, "some things aren't _always_ about you, and I was angry about _something else_. Maybe, just _maybe_, you're not the reason I'm mad. Has _that_ ever crossed your mind?"

Any retort, any comeback died on her lips as that realization dawned on her. She just assumed he was mad at her, judging from their previous fight. Her mouth parted slightly as she stared back up at Jace in shock and regret. "Jace–" she started, but he cut her off.

"No," he interrupted. "It hasn't." His expression was pure anger now, but this time, it was directed at her. She felt her heart shatter as his next words impacted her heavily. "Have you ever considered me not being an asshole before, or am I just a complete dick to you?"

"Jace, I'm sorry–"

"Save it, Clary," he said, turning away from her in disgust. "I've heard enough from you." And with that, he slowly made his way back up downtown, stopping occasionally to stoop down and mark a crack in the road. Clary watched him go, frozen in her tracks. What could she possibly say to him that'd make this better?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Finally, I have this updated! I have an excuse, I promise: Finals are next week, and this week and last week consisted of me being extremely busy with homework, projects, essays, studying… But I'm back now, and I can honestly say I'm excited for the next chapter. I can honestly also say that next chapter hasn't yet been started, but I have some Clace ideas forming in my head. **

**~MJ**


	8. Chapter 8

**A:N/ New chapter! Disclaimer: All characters mentioned are not mine nor ever will be, as they belong to Cassie Clare. Sadly.**

* * *

><p>Clary quietly sank deep into the leather couch in the living room, her sketchbook and pencil clutched tightly in her hand. Judging by the pitch-black windows outside, it was pretty late in the night. She couldn't sleep; her mind was wandering, restless. Thoughts and ideas, sceneries and theories jumbled together in her mind, and she finally resulted to jumping out of the warmth of her bed and creeping downstairs.<p>

Leaning her head back against the cool material of the couch, Clary relived the previous day, her eyes softly fluttering shut. She thought of how she had sat next to Jace on that tightly-packed bus and their awkward conversation. She thought of how they had stood in line, how cold she was, how Jace noticed this, and lent her his coat, despite behind cold himself. She thought of how he had been brutally honest with her, though knowing he had broken a rule set by Thomas in doing so. She thought of the way he had softly woken her up when she passed out, and the way they fought.

Man, they can fight. Neither backed down, both too stubborn and proud to do so. The corner of her mouth quirked up when she realized she had probably won that argument, remembering the baffled look on Jace's face. Then Thomas came along on his bright golf cart and whisked them away to lunch…

Her face instantly fell. Simon. They had fought as well, and ever since then, she had not been able to talk to him. She had stormed off and ended up with Jace's group, talking to Cecily and Isabelle. Then once again, Thomas had whisked them away to that same damn road… Her and Jace fighting once again…

After that fight, neither talked to each other, even on the bus. Clary had resulted in taking a nap, and unlike last time, Jace didn't wake her up – Tessa did. She had hung out with Cecily and Isabelle for the rest of the night, sitting by them at dinner, and hanging out with both of them in Isabelle's room. She had avoided eye contact with both Jace and Simon at dinner, knowing they were both still undoubtedly pissed off at her. And both fights were her fault.

Her eyes popped open as the sketchbook in her hand became noticed. She had forgotten she brought it downstairs. Opening it up, she flipped through the drawings absentmindedly, already remembering what she had drawn. Her eyes trailed over sketches of beautiful scenery in Canada, trees dipped in snow, the sun rising over the horizon, snowflakes falling softly to the earth. But one picture made her actions pause. When did she draw this? And why is it so damn accurate? She trailed a finger on the picture's jawline, the eyes, the hair, the collarbone, the cold smirk… all the details were spot on. Her eyes narrowed.

Since when did she know Jace Herondale _this _much?

Flipping the next page, Clary brought the pencil down, and when the contact of pencil and paper was made, graphite lines swirled out the tip of it, shaping a beautiful picture of the cracked road, the Hall in the distance, Jace's distant form…

Why is she drawing Jace? Before she could make a move to erase him, a flicker of movement near the staircase caught in the corner of her eye. Her gaze quickly slewed, and with a jolt of surprise she saw a male form descending the stairs, movements quiet and as graceful as a dancer. The shadows engulfed the identity of the stranger, but when he stepped into a patch of moonlight, Clary muffled a surprised gasp.

As if he had materialized out of her thoughts, Jace Herondale slowly walked toward her, his dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his light grey t-shirt riding up, revealing his golden, muscular stomach. He had his hands raised in front of him, as if he were trying to not scare away a wild animal. She almost snorted; she watched as Jace stared directly at her as he moved toward her cautiously, carefully maneuvering himself on the other end of the sofa. She felt the couch dip under his weight, but she barely noticed. The only thing she was seeing was Jace.

His golden hair, catching in the moonlight, was a bright gold, ruffled from sleep. His skin, usually as golden as the rest of him, held a tint of a nice tan, contrasting against the golden fire swirling in his beautiful, tawny eyes. His jawline, as strong as ever, seemed sharp and hard, outlining the beauty his face contains. A small smirk played on his lips, but his eyes remained thoughtful and curious. "Hey," he said, and his voice was rough. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Clary said, snapping the sketchbook closed so he couldn't see what she was drawing. Her eyes narrowed fractionally at him. "Are you still mad?"

"A little," he admitted, though the small smile playing at the corner of his lips took any sting out of his words. "I knew you didn't mean it, though."

Clary shook her head, and for a moment she was glad the moonlight didn't reflect on her face; she had just rolled out of bed without brushing her hair or putting on makeup. She'd probably look like a zombie, and she was thankful Jace couldn't see that. "I never thought you were an ass, Jace. I just thought you acted like one."

He cocked an eyebrow, but didn't respond. Instead, he reached over and lightly touched the hard cover of her sketchbook with interest. "What's this?" he asked, his voice low and soft.

"My sketchbook." Her reply was slow, her gaze set squarely on Jace. She watched as the interest in his eyes grew, as his lips parted, as his fingers began to wriggle in desire to peek inside. She almost smiled at his blunt curiosity, and felt her nerves flutter as he moved closer next to her.

Looking back up at her, Jace's tawny eyes narrowed in realization. "There's a reason you're not asleep," he stated slowly. Clary could almost see his mind working. "Is something wrong?"

Clary sighed. Should she tell him? "Yeah," she whispered, fully aware her own mouth had betrayed her yet again. "I'm too caught up on whoever is the imposter. If it's Jonathan or Sebastian. If it's Jonathan, then my whole family is in trouble. If it's Sebastian, then I'll have to live with the weight of knowing my father, who is a murderer, walks alive and free." She peeked at Jace, who was watching her intently. She continued. "And, I was also dwelling on the fact that you and Simon weren't talking to me, and I didn't really know how to cope with that."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in an arrogant smirk. "Couldn't stand us being parted?"

Clary lightly slapped him on the arm with her sketchbook. "You know what I mean," she said. She casted her gaze down, trailing a finger over the rough, leather cover. "At least I know you're not mad. Everyone seems mad nowadays."

"There's probably a reason for that," said Jace, stretching out his back. She watched him do so, his movements reminding her of a lion – graceful, tense, and owning sense of prowling. He continued. "For example, Jordan and Maia broke up because Jordan cheated on her"–Clary's mouth popped open in surprise, but did not interrupt–"Alec, Magnus, Jonathan, and myself are mad at Sebastian, because he's a bastard. And Tessa, Seelie, and Kaelie are all in a fight, for whatever reason, I don't know."

Clary slowly shook her head at him. "How do you know so much?"

Jace, who had never stopped staring at her, seemed to grow smug at her question. "I have connections in this house," he said. "Friends with the right people. With the right maids and cooks. They usually tell me everything."

"You're friends with the cooks?"

"Of course," Jace was smirking at her curiosity, his golden eyes alight. "Who isn't?"

"Every normal person in this house."

He snorted.

Clary studied him, her curiosity stretching. There were dark bag under his red-brimmed eyes, and his shoulders were slouching. It seemed as if the tight grasp of sleep pressed him down in the couch, sinking him in the white leather and decorative throw pillows. "Jace?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you up so early?"

He sighed in exasperation, a thin hand raking through his unkempt blonde hair. A golden curl fell in his eyes, and Clary felt the urge to push it out of his face for him. She didn't; in irritation, Jace flicked it out of his vision. "Couldn't sleep," he answered finally. "Went downstairs to get some water, but then I saw you."

The way he held a firm finality in his voice, which was spiced with a tint of weariness and exhaustion, kept her from pressing his answer. It must be a defect for lack of sleep, she thought. But why isn't she like that? She was sleep-deprived as well. They were both supposed to be getting up in a few hours for construction, both knowing perfectly well there was another long day ahead of them. And here they were, sitting on the couch, discussing nothing.

Her pocket suddenly felt heavy. With a start of surprise, she realized she had slept with his ring tucked safely in her pocket. How did it end up there? She glanced down and noticed the obvious bump protruding from her pants. She slipped a hand inside and gripped the iron ring, the surface warm from her body heat.

Jace was watching her through half-lidded eyes. She reeled her hand out, moving the ring through her fingers and thumb, idly playing with the engraved 'M.' "Jace," she whispered, glancing up at him. "Is this yours?" She unfolded her fingers and revealed the ring.

His eyes widened; his hand immediately shot to his ring finger, almost as if just now noticing the absence. In a blur of movement, he snatched the ring out of her palm and clutched it tightly in his grasp. "Where'd you find this?" he demanded.

"You dropped it," she replied crisply. Why was he snappy at her? It's because of her he had his ring back after all. "On the road."

His brows furrowed. "On the –" Realization dawned on him as he paled, the dark smudges under his eyes becoming more perceptible. "By the angel," he whispered. "Will would've killed me."

Any further iciness that froze Clary's words thawed under the circumstances that Jace, who never seemed to feel anything, was showcasing pure horror openly. After a moment of watching him play with the ring, she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "Why?" she asked, receiving a startled half-jump from Jace. His gaze shifted up towards her. "What's so important about a ring?"

"It's not _just_ a ring," he snapped, slipping the iron band on his finger. Through the harsh moonlight spilling in the room, the metal winked up at her. She heard Jace take a deep breath. "This ring, along with one other, has been passed down through the generations in my family. Will owns one as well, but his is engraved with an 'H,' not an 'M.'"

"What does 'H' and 'M' stand for?"

Jace hesitated for a moment before speaking. "The 'H' stands for 'Herondale.' I don't know what the 'M' means; Will and my father said it was a 'W'."

"Huh." Clary's eyes were trained on Jace's finger, studying the ring with renewed interest.

A silence surrounded them, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. She jumped as Jace suddenly stood up, the couch groaning from lack of weight. She glanced up at him in surprise as he held a hand out for her. A small smiled played on his lips, his mouth curving up at the corners. The moonlight spilling in the large room illuminated his sharp, angular face, his golden eyes liquid fire. In that moment, Clary decided she had never seen something more beautiful. Jace jerked his chin to the staircase. "It's late. We need sleep."

In a daze, she nodded. "Alright." Ignoring his outstretched hand, she pushed herself off the couch, collecting her sketchbook and pencils in her arms. Turning, she met his gaze with triumph, trying to hide her struggle to contain everything in her arms.

Jace was staring down at her with an odd expression on his face. "Here, let me help–" he started, and before she could react, he scooped up the drawing supplies out of her grasp and held them to himself.

With a startled noise escaping her lips, Clary reached for her sketchbook, which was tucked safely under his arms. He stepped back out of her reach. She huffed. "Jace, thank you for your offer, really, but you don't have to do this."

He shook his head in determination, already moving toward the stairs. "What kind of person would I be if I watched you haul these things without intervening?"

Clary scrambled after him, reaching a hand out to snatch her book out of his grasp. There were some things nobody needs to see. "A normal one."

He grinned, once again moving out of the way as Clary grasped for her stuff. "Tsk, tsk," he said, starting up the stairs. "Someone has to learn to appreciate this good deed being done for them."

Clary, muttering bitterly under her breath, trailed after him, her feet echoing loudly against the marble staircase.

* * *

><p>Jace reached her room first, leaning casually against the wall next to her door, fidgeting with the sketchbook. Clary, ignoring him, took out the key from her pocket and stuck it in the lock, unlocking the door with a confirmed 'click.' The door swung open, revealing her room – her bed was unmade, some clothes spilling out of her dresser, but other than that, she kept things somewhat tidy. Evidence of her past life in New York was displayed everywhere; she had a New York City throw pillow on her bed, several pictures of herself and family visitin several tourist attractions, and a small replica of the statue of liberty propped up messily on the dresser. At least, she thought weakly, it was probably cleaner than Jace's room.<p>

She moved in her room and dropped the key on her dresser, next to her charging phone and a picture of her, Jocelyn, and Luke at Coney Island. Seeing the people who had raised her sent pang of homesickness so profound it felt as if someone had sucker punched her in the gut. But now knowing her own mother knew her father was a murderer sent chills down Clary's spine. Does she even know her mother at all? Why did strangers have to tell her of her past, and not her own mother? She heard Jace trail into her room after her, and she turned around to see him taking in her room with interest written in his expression. Clary watched as he silently dropped the art supplies on her bed and made a move to leave.

Once again, she scrambled after him. "Jace – wait."

He paused at the entrance at the door, turning around to meet her gaze, his luminous eyes swallowed up in the dark. Even in the darkness she saw his eyebrow cock up. "Can I help you with something?"

She bit her lip. "Thank you for bringing up my sketchbook and pencils," she said, fidgeting with the material of her tank top. Her gaze casted down at her feet. "You didn't need to."

"Of course I did," he said, surprising her. She quickly met her eyes with his own, seeing him smiling_, actually_ smiling, and not smirking or leering. "It was a gesture of friendship."

"Oh, so now we're friends?"

"Is there anything else you wish us to be?"

"No," she said quickly, casting her mind back to all those thoughts she had about his appearance downstairs. She regained her posture hastily. "Being friends is good."

"Good." He opened his mouth as if to say something, thought better of it, then clamped his mouth shut again. "I guess this is the part where we say goodnight?"

Her mouth curved into a smile. "I guess so."

He grinned. "Goodnight, Clarissa Morgenstern."

She made a face at him. "Goodnight, Jonathan Herondale."

Before he could ask how she knew his first name, she closed the door on him, cutting off his shocked retort. She had asked Tessa earlier that day, and Tessa, with a knowing smile, had told her. Leaning against the door, she heard his footsteps retreating to the other side of the hallway towards the boys' side. _Friends,_ his voice echoed in her mind harshly. _It was a gesture of friendship. _She slowly made her way to her bed, flinging herself on top of it. Clary stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, wondering just how she had fallen for Jace Herondale.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know it's really short, but I promise the next update will be longer. I just finished finals this week, so I had no time to write. Since I'm out of school for Christmas break, I'll have plenty of time to write longer chapters!**

**~MJ**


End file.
